


Hothouse Flowers

by staringatthesky



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Abusive Relationships, All-Human, Angst, Depressing, Depression, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 86,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatthesky/pseuds/staringatthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosalie has it all- she's pretty, popular and perfect and thinks the whole world is hers. But even the most beautiful angels fall. Sequel to Where the Wild Roses Grow. AH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Tryouts

**Author's Note:**

> AN – To all my old friends reading this, and any new readers too- hi! It’s good to be back.   
> I just wanted to explain a few things about this story, and writing it.   
> I didn’t originally set out to write this as a proper story that I planned on posting. Basically I was having a horrible personal time, and I just wanted to write something to take my mind off real life but wasn’t up for creating something new. So I started writing little scenes related to Where the Wild Roses Grow, the last thing I’d written, since I already knew those characters so well I didn’t have to think about it.   
> I really didn’t think this story needed to be written. It’s a prequel to Where the Wild Roses Grow, timewise, but I wrote that as a stand alone story and I think it stands well as one. In fact, if you haven’t read it, I think people should read Where the Wild Roses Grow before they read this.  
> So yeah, I started writing this just for me, just to flesh out some of the scenes and ideas that I’d been working with when I wrote Where the Wild Roses Grow. Forty thousand words later I realised I actually had a story, and that maybe some of the people who had loved Rosalie in WTWRG and written me so many lovely reviews and PMs might like to read it too. So I’ve started trying to string it together into a coherent narrative and fill in the gaps for you. The chapters might be a bit choppy and the timeline isn’t as firm as I usually like, but for all that I really hope you read it and like it anyway!  
> It does need some warnings I guess, because there’s no happy ending in this one. Hothouse Flowers is going to tell Rosalie’s story from the time she first gets involved with Royce until the time after her assault when she decides to move to Forks. I wanted to look at how her romance with Royce progressed, and how she found herself caught up in this abusive relationship and how her thoughts around that changed over time. I wanted to look at how vain, self-centred Rosalie might have behaved before she became the traumatised girl in WTWRG. So fair warning, that this story does contain some abuse.   
> And there’s no Emmett. Oh lord, I miss Emmett.

The Camaro is satisfyingly loud as I pull into the parking lot at school, taking my time reversing into a space and listening to the roar of the engine with a grin. In a sea of modern cars the 1969 classic muscle car stands out a mile.

Beside me my brother Jasper rolls his eyes at me. “You are such an attention seeker,” he mutters, grabbing his books.

I poke my tongue out him. “Oh, whatever…I’ve got cheerleader tryouts after school this afternoon, so I can’t give you a ride home.”

“That’s fine, I’ll catch Ben or I’ll walk or something,” Jasper says hastily as two of my friends descend upon us. He gives them a brief wave and then strides off through the parking lot.

“Rosalie!” Kacey and Vera call my name as I jump out, slamming the door with a heavy clunk.

“God, when are you going to trade this car in?” Kacey looks at the Camaro with an expression that’s almost disgusted. “Seriously Rosalie, it’s practically an antique.”

“It’s a classic,” I correct her. I sling my gym bag over my shoulder and take up my bookbag. “And it was my mom’s…Are you guys ready for tryouts this afternoon?”

“I’m so nervous,” Vera winces. “I was sick this morning…I know I’m never going to make the squad.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” I say with impatient affection. “You’ll get in for sure. You were the best on the JV squad last year.”

_Apart from me,_ the little voice in my head pipes up. I might play the game of uncertainty and pretend in public to a modesty I don’t really feel, but at heart I’m realistic. Vera and I were the best on the JV cheerleading squad last year, and given the squad remaining after last year’s seniors graduated I’m pretty confident that we’ll make varsity this year. Although that does hinge on today’s tryouts, so I briefly cross my fingers that nothing goes terribly wrong.

“Don’t turn around, but someone’s looking at you…” Vera murmurs with a sly grin. “Since when is there anything between you and Royce King? Because he’s looking at you like he’s only just got eyes.”

I laugh and toss my head as though I couldn’t care less. “He’s been flirting with me all summer, whenever I saw him. And then he pretty much hit on me at Peyton’s party,” I tell her, failing to hide the note of smugness in my tone. “It was late, you were somewhere off with Jim – you whore! – and I was in the hot tub with him and a few of the other footballers.”

“Oh well, you in a bikini…” Kacey’s voice holds a bite of jealousy, but I don’t react. Kacey and I have been friends since seventh grade, but she’s always been kind of competitive with me at the same time. She’d been at Peyton’s party but hadn’t joined me in the hot tub with the boys…can I help it if they like me better?

Vera snorts. “I’m surprised that you got out of the hot tub with your virtue intact then. Royce and his pals?”

The three of us turn and begin walking into school. I pull my shoulders back and swing my hips a little, sneakily conscious of the eyes that follow me. Eyes that include those of Royce King, senior football captain and the best looking guy in school. He smiles lazily and waves at me, and I give him a sideways grin and flip my hair over my shoulder.

“He’s such a player,” I say to Vera. “He hits on all the girls…it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not interested in being another one of his little groupies.”

“He is good looking though,” Vera says thoughtfully. “And you know how much money his family has- it would be wicked to go out in that car.”

“I’d hit it,” Kacey says cheerfully, adding teasingly, “But of course, Rosalie’s saving herself…”

She and Vera laugh as I roll my eyes. For god’s sake, I’m only sixteen…my virginity really shouldn’t be a laughing stock among my friends. Just because they all treated having sex like some kind of competition doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me because I didn’t.

“I’m not _saving myself_ ,” I say, irritated. “I’m just not interested in sleeping with any grubby boy from school who gets a hard on just from looking at me. Why bother if I’m not really into them?”

“Because it’s fun?” Kacey suggests.

“Well, you would know!”

Laughing, the three of us push our way through the entrance of the school building. At the last minute I pause and look back over the parking lot, where the dark eyes of Royce King are still following me, and I can’t help smiling. He’s a player and I’m not interested…but he’s the best looking guy in school, rich, smart and popular to boot, so I can’t help my smug sense of satisfaction. _He wants me._

 

Vera finds me in front of the mirror in the third floor girls’ bathroom after last period. I wrap another hair elastic around my ponytail to hold it in more securely, and eye myself critically in the mirror. Cheerleader tryouts are going to be a madhouse and I want to stand out. I’m wearing basic black, shorts and a crop top, but my body is on point and my long blonde hair in its high, flippy ponytail looks good. I bounce lightly on my toes, watching to see how effectively my new sports bra is going to contain my boobs. Not bad. “Not too much bouncing boobs going on?”

“No, you’re good. You look great,” Vera says anxiously. “Push over for a minute and let me have some room.” She brushes her hair vigorously. It’s dyed dark brown with pink streaks in it this week and it’s sleek and shiny and looks good against her olive skin.

I put my foot up on the sink and stretch, ignoring the little knot of freshman girls that have come into the bathroom and are watching us surreptitiously out of the corners of their eyes.

“I’m so nervous I’m going to puke,” Vera says abruptly, dropping her hairbrush in the sink and bolting for a stall. I nearly gag myself at the sounds coming from her, and the freshman girls all scurry out giggling.

“God, I’m sorry,” Vera reappears, scooping water into her mouth and spitting into the sink. “I’m so nervous!”

“You need to calm down,” I say. “That was gross…you’re really going to be fine, you know.” I stretch my leg up beside my head and grimace at myself in the mirror, checking to make sure I don’t have anything in my teeth.

Vera stands beside me, looking fretfully between our reflections. “I wish I had your natural advantages!”

I roll my eyes. “Boobs and ass….so I’d make a good stripper, big deal! You were great on the squad last year and I bet you’ll kill it in try outs today.” Even I have to admit I look like every cheerleader stereotype out there, but no one was getting a free pass onto our squad. It was all about talent and Vera had plenty of it. “Come on Hamilton, let’s go.”

The gym is crowded with girls in workout clothes, some warming up, others lounging on the bleachers or gathered in small groups. The noise is deafening. Across the room I see Kacey with a bunch of girls from last year’s JV squad and I head across to her, ignoring the footballers sprawled across the top rows of the bleacher even as I know they’re watching me.

“Can you believe this crowd?” Kacey mutters. “Like half of them have a hope.”

I shrug. “You know they have to give everyone a chance.” I don’t know why I’m bothering to be magnanimous- Kacey is right about the unlikeliness of the majority of these girls even being able to complete the warm up, let alone stand up to the rigours of cheerleading on this squad.

“Okay everybody, listen up!” It’s Peyton, standing up on the table and shouting through a megaphone. “Shut up! It’s time to get this started…me or one of the other girls on the squad are going to come round and give you a number, and then you need get out on the floor for a warm up!”

“Don’t let me down, girls,” Peyton says, when she finally reaches our group with her clipboard and marker. “You JV bitches know all the routines and I want some good tryouts from you…I don’t want to be stuck with training up a whole bunch of newbies.” With her thick marker she draws numbers on Kacey and Vera’s upper arms.

“Oh please,” I say with a laugh. “You already know exactly who you want on your squad! Tryouts be damned, you’ve had it planned since last year. You told me so in the hot tub at your party!”

“Keep it to yourself, smartass,” Peyton grins. Her marker tickles the skin on my bicep as she scrawls a number on me, and then before I can stop her she bends forward and scribbles something across my belly. “Just wanted to make sure everyone can see your number,” she smirks as she walks away.

The minute Peyton moves from their line of sight I hear the laughter and catcalls from the football players in the bleachers and I look down to see the giant number 69 Peyton has scrawled across my belly. “Oh, that’s mature,” I mutter in disgust, swiping my hand ineffectually across it.

Kacey giggles, and Vera pats me absently on the arm. “Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s go and find a good spot.”

Kacey makes sure our place is well within the football players’ line of sight and the three of us do a few stretches while we wait. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that Royce King is watching us…well, watching _me._ I can’t stop the grin that curves my mouth, and I bend over and put my hands flat on the floor so no one will see my face.

Peyton isn’t messing about with her tryouts. She leads the warm up and then cuts about half the wannabes immediately, much to their distress. I think she’s right though- if they can’t follow a warm up then how on earth do they expect to pick up all the routines we need to know?

She’s just as brutal in the second section of tryouts, when she breaks those of us left into smaller groups and leaves us to one of the cheerleaders, who teaches us one of the simpler routines they do at games. Two thirds of the remaining girls don’t make it through that cut.

I do. I know the routine from JV, and along with cheer camp I’ve kept up my cardio and strength workouts during the summer and I’m feeling strong and flexible and sure of myself. Years of dance and gymnastics have given me a solid foundation of skills and I love this chance to put them all together and push myself. It sometimes seems funny to me that everyone else has spent my whole life focussed on the way I _look_ , and yet I am so enamoured with the things my body can _do._ I love cheering for that reason- looking the way I do is a bonus, but it’s my skills that are going to get me on to the squad.

After the group routine, Peyton has those of us still in the competition go and sit in the stands while we wait for a chance to do an individual routine. I’m only a tiny bit surprised when Royce climbs down the bleachers and drops into the seat beside me.

“You looked good out there.”

“Thanks.” I roll my shoulders, keeping my muscles loose. “I hope I’ll make it this year.”

“You will.” Royce smiles at me, and I automatically smile back.

He is so good looking! I’ve thought he was gorgeous since I first saw him when I was a freshman, but his reputation for being a player has put me off a bit. But now that he’s paying attention to me…I have a momentary fantasy of what it could be like if I make the cheer squad _and he’s going to be quarterback this year and we can ride to the away games on the bus together and go to the parties and everyone will be so jealous…_

“Hey, Peyton’s calling you,” Royce nudges my shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Oh, thanks!” I jump to my feet and with a swish of my ponytail go bounding down the steps towards Peyton and the other cheerleaders, sitting together behind a folding table with their clipboards.

“Okay Hale, show us your stuff,” she says, gesturing with her pen to the vast and empty gym floor.

I’m not nervous. I’ve been cheering since I was twelve and I know I’m good at it. Vera and I worked on these individual routines during summer vacation, choreographing to show each of us to our best advantage, and I like what we’ve done. I finish with some tumbling and there’s a small spattering of applause, not all of it from my friends, so I know I’ve done okay.

“Okay Hamilton, your turn!” Peyton shouts, and Vera jumps up and hurries down towards the front to take my place on the floor. I high five her as we pass, and then take my seat again beside Royce, only a little hesitantly.

Royce is watching me with his dark eyes, smiling slightly. He wears expensive cologne and I can still smell a hint of the scent, even now at the end of the day. I’ve always been obsessed with the way guys smell, and I try not to be too obvious as I inhale.

“I think you were really good out there,” he tells me. “You were JV last year, right?”

I nod. Royce doesn’t hide the fact that he’s looking, and suddenly my sports bra and short shorts feel awfully skimpy. I’m embarrassingly aware of the number 69 scribbled all over and I fold my arms across my belly, although I can’t do anything about the numbers on my arms.

I think Royce realises what I’m doing, because he chuckles a bit before he says, “Well, I think you’ll get on the squad this year. Your tryout was awesome, and Peyton seems to like you. She did in the hot tub at her party, anyway.”

Now my cheeks are burning, and I’m sure I’m blushing. Peyton had been completely off her face at her end of summer party (I hadn’t been too much better, to be honest) and she was the kind of girl who liked to put on a show for the guys. A little bit of flirting and teasing girl on girl action and she had most of the guys she wanted panting for her, and at her last party I’d been the one in the hot tub with her.

“She’s just playing games,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “You would know how she is.” I’m a year younger than they are and was only on the periphery of their crowd as a JV cheerleader last year, but I know that Peyton and Royce have been friends for years. I’m pretty sure they’ve fooled around together a bit too, but there’s nothing serious there.

Royce grins. “Yeah, I know Peyton. Hey, do you want a ride home after this?” His hand brushes across my thigh.

_Damn it. I should have let Jasper take the car._ “Oh no, that’s okay. I’ve got the car today.”

“Oh right, you drive that rust bucket,” Royce teases. “That thing’s a beast…you can hear you coming from the other side of the school.”

“Hey!” I say with mock indignation. “Don’t slam my Camaro- she’s a classic! _Maybe_ she needs a little work, but she’s still the best car in the lot.”

I give him a playful shove and he laughs and grabs my hands, enfolding them in his. His hands seem so big in comparison to mine! He keeps my fingers wrapped in his for just a moment too long before he releases me, holding his hands up with a grin. “Okay, I won’t go slamming your car! But I’ll take you out for a ride in mine one day and then you’ll see what a really sweet ride is.”

“You’ll never convince me,” I pout. “Muscle cars all the way.” But I’m looking up at him from under lowered lashes and his dark eyes are bright with amusement and fastened on my face. This is all going just the way I want it to…and I can’t wait to see where it’s going to go after this.


	2. Chapter 2 - Someone Different

They don’t announce who has made the cheer squad at the end of tryouts. Once every girl has done her individual routine Peyton makes a little speech thanking everyone for trying out and saying that she was impressed with the talent and the list will be up on the board tomorrow.

I say goodbye to Royce. I’ve been flirting with him while we watch the tryouts and it’s been fun, but I don’t want to let him think that I’m just going to fall over myself to get with him. That’s what all the girls do, and I’ve never been interested in being just like all the girls. Not because I think I’m better than anyone else but because I don’t want what they want. I don’t want a fling, or a one night stand…I want to be in love- wildly, crazily, do-anything-for-them in love with someone whose emotions for me are just as intense.

“Hey Vee, do you want a ride?” I call, jumping the last few steps and flicking my ponytail back, knowing with a pleased little thump of my heart that Royce is watching me and that he likes what he sees.

Vera raises her eyebrows. “Yes thanks…I think you might have something to tell me?”

I laugh and shrug into my hoodie as we pick up our bags. “Not really…”

“Don’t give me that,” Vera says with a snort. “He came to watch your cheerleading tryouts? Which was fantastic, by the way…you’re a certainty.”

“He and his buddies only came along to check out all the girls in skimpy work out gear,” I say dismissively. “Really Vee, I have no idea what he’s after…”

“I can guess!”

“Oh, shut up!” I laugh in embarrassment. “Of course that, but…oh, whatever. Forget about him! Tryouts…you were so great! Seriously, they’ll be mad not to choose you.” My words are sincere. Vera’s shorter and slighter than I am, but she’s got fantastic presence and is a real firecracker. “What did you think about the others? Kacey was good, I thought…”

Vera and I talk about the tryouts as I drive her home, discussing who we think will make the squad and how we’ll go working as a team. There weren’t too many surprises at the tryouts, and the two of us are fairly sure who’ll be listed on the board tomorrow. Once I drop her off at her house I sing along with the radio as I head home. Dad’s car isn’t in the driveway, although I hadn’t really expected it to be, but the lights are on in the kitchen and I call out to Jasper as I open the front door.

“Italian or Thai?” Jasper says by way of greeting, holding out the well worn home delivery menus from two local restaurants as he lounges in the kitchen doorway.

Entering the alarm code, I think longingly of a big bowl of creamy, delicious gnocchi carbonara and then then automatically calculate how much time I’d need to spend running to compensate for the calories. “Thai,” I say, a little reluctantly.

“Okay. The usual?” Jasper waits for my nod and then grabs the house phone and presses 3 on the speed dial. “Hi Maya, it’s Jasper…yeah, good, and you?....great…okay, tonight I want…”

We’re on very good terms with all the local restaurants that deliver.    

I run upstairs to my room and take a shower, scrubbing hard at my skin until Peyton’s numbers fade away. I leave my hair to air dry and then dress in a pair of babydoll pyjamas and run downstairs, where Jasper has just taken delivery of the Thai food.

“How were the tryouts?” he asks me as we settle on the sofa with the food spread out on the coffee table.

“Good, I think,” I answer through a mouthful. “I won’t know until tomorrow, but there were no major disasters.” I flip through the channels on the big tv. “Do you know Royce King?” I ask, striving for a casual tone.

“Football dude?” Jasper shrugs. “I know OF him. Why?” He gives me a wry smile. “Do you have your eye on him? Or is he in love with you and I should expect to find him asking me all about you and begging me for our phone number?”

I giggle. “No, neither of those things. Not exactly anyway.” I take another bite and lick the satay sauce that drips onto my hand before I say to Jasper, “He seems kind of interested- I saw him at parties and things over summer and we would flirt, but it wasn’t anything important. Just fun, you know? But now we’re at school and he’s still…I don’t know. He came to watch me at tryouts today, and I’ve seen him watching me at other times.”

“Sounds like a stalker,” Jasper jokes, and I punch him in the arm as he laughs. “Seriously Rose, it sounds like he likes you…why are you so hesitant about this? He’s just a guy, and you’ve always had all the guys you wanted wrapped around your little finger.”

I pick through the pad thai and don’t answer. I don’t know how to explain to Jasper what I just feel instinctively- this is different. Royce is different. He’s not like the other boys I’ve dated and played with, where I was always in control. Royce is strong and determined and even as his gaze gives me butterflies in my tummy he makes me feel like the ground under my feet is uncertain. Every single boy I’ve ever dated has wanted me more than I’ve wanted them, and even though it scares me so much I’d never admit is aloud, I think the same might not be true of Royce. I can’t help but think that if I open up and let this happen, it has the potential to change everything.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

 I can’t help but feel a frisson of nerves run through me as I enter school the following day. I’m dying to run straight to the sports’ noticeboard and see if the cheerleader list is up, but I don’t want to appear too anxious so I head to my locker first. I’m getting out the books for my first class when my phone beeps with a message from Vera.

_Can’t stop puking. East wing bathroom. Come rescue me._

Vera’s nervous stomach! I reach into the back of my locker for the tin of mints I keep there for these kind of emergencies and then hurry down to the bathroom at the end of the corridor. I gag at the smell of vomit as I go in, and then climb up on the sink to force open the small windows.

“Vee? It’s me,” I say. “You okay? I brought you some mints.”

“Thanks babe.” Vera comes out of the stall, her face pale and sweaty. She rinses her mouth out and then gags again, vomiting a thin stream of bile into the sink. “If that list is not up on the board I am going to die,” she mutters. “I can’t take this uncertainty.” She spits again and then throws three mints into her mouth, making a face as they sting. “Thanks Rose. I’ve run out.”

“No problem,” I say, opening up Vera’s purse and pulling out her make-up case, handing her a small packet of facial wipes. “Do you think you need to see the doctor? This is worse than normal, isn’t it?”

Vera shrugs. Her face is white, the shadows under her eyes nearly purple. She’s always had a nervous stomach, prone to vomiting from stress or anxiety or tiredness, but it’s not usually as consistent as this has been. “I don’t know. I think it’s just that I’ve been really stressed about these cheerleading tryouts. And things haven’t been so great at home. Mom’s been getting on my case about Jim a lot…she really disapproves that we’ve been together for so long and that he’s not a Christian. She’s already starting to get worked up about college too and is constantly talking to me about how much my grades matter, and how I have to ace the SATs and all that.” Vera sighs.

“SATs aren’t for months,” I say, taking out Vera’s eyeliner and drawing a careful line on her lids. “And you’ve always got excellent grades.”

“Try telling my Mom that,” Vera says. “You’re lucky sometimes that your dad doesn’t bother you about stuff.”

“Yeah, I suppose having a dad who doesn’t really give a shit has its perks,” I say cheerfully, brushing on some shimmery eye shadow that immediately makes Vera’s tired eyes look brighter. “I don’t think he remembers what grade I’m in, let alone things like SATs.” I dig through Vera’s make up for some blush to give her some colour. “There you go, that looks less like you’re about to keel over and die.”

Vera laughs, her breath smelling strongly of mint. “Thanks babe.” She hugs me tight. “Let’s go and look at this list…I have to know if I got on the squad.”

In the end we don’t even have to read the list. There’s a small crowd of girls bunched in front of the sports’ noticeboard, and as soon as they see Vera and I approaching there’s some spontaneous applause and happy shrieking.

Kacey detaches herself from the crowd and runs over to us, wrapping both of us in a strong hug. “We made it!” she cries, jumping up and down. “All three of us…I am SO happy, my tryout was sooo bad, but we’re in!”

Vera and I join in the happy hug with sighs of relief, and then Kacey holds our hands and tugs us over to the noticeboard. “Come see who the rest of the squad is…it’s going to be a good one.”

I’m scanning the list when Peyton leans against the wall beside me with a self-satisfied smile on her face. “Well done girls,” she says.

“Thanks,” I say lightly. While the cheer coach Michelle makes the ultimate decisions, everyone knows that Peyton’s opinion is key to selection.

“I’m having a party on Saturday night,” she tells us casually. “I want all the new squad to be there…are you three in?”

“Sure!” Kacey says enthusiastically. She was away nearly all summer and missed Peyton’s parties then. “That sounds great.”

Vera grins at me, and I nod at Peyton. “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

“Cool. Bring people if you want,” Peyton says cheerfully, before she laughs and adds teasingly, “Although Rosalie, there was someone who asked very specifically if I was going to invite you…”

I can feel a blush heating up my cheeks. “Really? Who?”

Peyton laughs as she turns and saunters away. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” she calls over her shoulder. “You’ll have to come to my party to find out!”

I snort and flip her off, but I can’t stop my smile. I know she’s talking about Royce. _He likes me._

Saturday night arrives eventually. There’s usually _something_ happening on Saturday nights for my friends and I to do, but this time Peyton’s throwing a big bash, with catering and music and enough to make it special. I take extra care when I’m getting ready, being careful with my makeup and spending extra time pinning my hair up just right to get that effortlessly perfect look. Considering the likelihood of ending up in the pool or the hot tub I wear a bikini instead of underwear, and slip into a short, flirty pink floral sundress and some wedge heels.

“Jasper!” Satisfied with my appearance I fling open my door and stand there, posing just a little bit because Jasper and four of his friends are sprawled over the playroom, eating burritos and playing video games. I couldn’t care less about Jasper’s friends really, all of whom I’ve known for years and most of whom are still too intimidated to talk to me, but they’re boys and it’s always good to get a bit of validation that I’m looking good.

 _Oh yes, they’re looking._ Satisfied with the way they all look at me and then look away super quick, before sneakily glancing back, I drop down on to the sofa between Jasper and Ben and look at my brother imploringly. “My dearest, darling brother…”

“Cut to the chase,” Jasper says amiably. “What do you want?”

“Some money?” I say, as though it’s a question. “I forgot to get any out at the ATM. Either that or you could give me a ride to the party and pick me up once it’s over.”

“Yeah…no,” Jasper says, shrugging his shoulders and passing his game controller over to one of his friends as his character dies.

“Hi Rosalie,” Ben says, as he takes the controller and starts the game.

“Hi.” I watch him play for a minute. Ben’s nice. He’s the only one of Jasper’s friends that isn’t intimidated by me. He’s known both of us since kindergarten, so long before I grew boobs and boys started thinking pretty mattered. I guess it’s pretty hard to be intimidated by someone you used to have sleepovers with in a treehouse.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to date someone like Ben. One of those quiet kids who doesn’t do sports and doesn’t get gossiped about in the locker room and at the lunch table. Someone who just lives his own life out of the spotlight, and seems happy outside the fierce social hierarchy of high school.

“You’ll be at Peyton’s?” Jasper asks, suddenly looking at me intently. “I can give you a ride if you need one.”

“It’s okay really, Vera and Jim are going to pick me up,” I answer. “I’ll get a cab home.”

I jump to my feet and go into Jasper’s room, finding his wallet on the desk and extracting a few notes. I fold them up and slip the money into my phone cover and then go and rumple Jasper’s hair. “Thanks for that. I’ll pay you back.”

“Make sure you DO get a cab home,” Jasper tells me, frowning faintly. “Don’t get in a car with anyone who’s been drinking.”

I roll my eyes. “I know that. That’s why I’m scabbing money off you, so I don’t have to. They’ll all be wasted.” I blow a teasing kiss at Jasper and spin on my heel. “Okay boys, bye bye…don’t have too much fun,” I laugh as I head down the stairs, hearing the honk of a horn from outside.

“Rosalie, you look beautiful!” Vera enthuses as I climb in beside her in Jim’s pickup truck.

“Do you really think so?” I ask anxiously. Before she can answer I grab her hands and she squeezes back.

“I really do,” she says sincerely.

Jim, Vera’s boyfriend, leans forward to smile at me. “Hey Rosalie. Looking good.”

I grin back at him. Jim has been Vera’s boyfriend since half way through freshman year and I know him as well as I know any of my friends. He’s serious and kind, and most importantly adores Vera. He was never good at school though, and he left at the end of last year to start a carpentry apprenticeship. It’s actually kind of strange not having him in school this year. “How’s work going?”

“Well, I’m a dab hand at sweeping up the workshop now,” he says, deadpan. “Might get to pick up a hammer next week if I’m lucky.”

Vera and I laugh, and then she reaches up and curls a piece of my hair around her finger, saying teasingly, “He’s going to notice you tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Who’s going to notice?” Jim asks in his gravelly voice. “Are you on the hunt tonight, Rosalie?”

“No!” I say, laughing. “I’m just thinking about the possibilities….” I giggle as Vera snorts.

“Royce King has been hitting on Rosalie,” Vera tells Jim. “She’s not been so sure, but apparently he’s kind of hard to resist…”

I cover my face in embarrassment, but I’m laughing at the same time. The possibilities are dancing in my head, shining and new and exciting, and all there for me to take them. Maybe Royce King, maybe someone or something else…the whole world is mine.


	3. Peyton's Party

**_ Chapter Three- Peyton’s Party. _ **

Peyton’s party is everything you hope a party will be- music and dancing and free drinks and good food and everyone happy and laughing and enjoying themselves. I’m right in the centre of things, exactly where I want to be.

I’m aware of Royce watching me, and I let him know that I know with flirting sideways glances and the occasional smile when our eyes meet. Neither of us approach the other yet though, letting the anticipation and heat build.

Inevitably we end up in the hot tub towards the end of the night. Girls first, stripping off dresses and jumping in in bikinis and underwear, while the boys watch. Then Royce and a couple of his buddies jump into the hot tub too, causing a tidal wave that sweeps all of us girls off our seats. There’s shrieking and laughter and a lot of under-the-water groping as everyone struggles to find a place.

I feel a pair of strong hands wrap around my waist and I’m pulled back through the water and onto Royce’s lap. For a moment I laugh and let him hold me, tinglingly aware of his powerful thighs under my ass and the way his arms feel so strong as they encircle me, before I wriggle off his lap and sit beside him. Royce watches me with amusement and then deliberately shifts his thigh so that it’s pressing against mine under the water. I pretend not to notice.

“Beer?” Royce reaches behind him and brings out two cups, offering me one.

“Sure.” I take it and sip, making a face. I like beer well enough when it’s cold, but this is half warm and flat and tastes vile.

Royce laughs. “Cocktail girl?”

“I don’t mind beer.” I tip the cup back and throw the rest down. I’m already pretty hammered and don’t need to be downing beers like that right now, especially not in a hot tub, but Royce’s dark eyes focussed on me so intently are making me feel flushed and reckless.

“You’re not wearing your blue one.”

“My…what?”

Royce’s hand brushes across my shoulder and my skin tingles. “Your blue one, with the strings…” he says, touching the shoulder strap of my bikini top. “You know, the one you were wearing last time Peyton had a party.”

 _Oh._ The blue string bikini I wore last time had fit and looked great when I was standing in the change room at the mall but I’d spent most of the party with the bottoms riding up my ass and the top threatening to spill my boobs out every time I moved. “No, not tonight…”

“I liked it.” Royce’s hand is still caressing my shoulder, playing with the strap of my bikini. “But this pink one is nice too.”

He’s watching me for my reaction as he touches me. I’m trying to play it cool but I doubt I’m fooling him. He’s known for being a player who gets any girl he wants, and although I’m determined not to just fall over myself in getting with him, I’m not immune to his charms. He is the best looking guy at school and holds an almost magnetic attraction for me. Even in the heat of the tub I can’t stop my shiver when his hand strokes my thigh under the water.

My friends tease me all the time about being a virgin and laugh that I’m ‘saving myself’. I know they think it’s weird, especially given how much I date, and they think that I’m just not interested in sex. But it’s not that. Actually, considering how frequently I masturbate I’d guess I’m as interested in sex as anyone and more than most, to be frank. And maybe that’s part of it too. I’ve always been able to get myself off, so why would I bother with some guy who’s only interested in what I can do for him?

The other thing is that I hate the way guys talk. The double standard is disgusting and I want no part of it, but I’ve never dated anyone long enough to trust them with that part of me. In that sense I am ‘saving myself’- I’m waiting until I find someone that I want to have sex with, someone who is going to want me to enjoy it too, and someone who isn’t just going to ditch me the next day.

“Rosalie! You look thirsty!” Peyton swoops down on me, holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and bourbon in the other and beaming. “What’s your poison, darling?” she asks in an affected voice as she laughs, leaning forward over my head.

“Bourbon,” I say with a giggle.

Peyton hands the tequila to someone and then pulls my hair to tip my head back. “Open up!” she sings, and then tilts the bottle.

I gulp, but she pours too fast and the alcohol splashes out of my mouth and runs down my chin and drips on my breasts. I wave my hands wildly at her as Peyton laughs gleefully and finally stops trying to drown me.

Everyone else is laughing too, as I cough and try to get my breath back, feeling the alcohol burn my throat. I feel stupid, and my eyes dart to Royce to see what he’s doing. He’s smiling, and then with a slow wink he leans forward and deliberately licks the trail of bourbon from where it ends at the edge of my bikini top covering my breasts, all the way up my chest and neck to end at my mouth, where he presses his lips against mine.

 _Oh fuck, that’s…_ I can’t even think straight. Royce’s mouth was hot and the trail his tongue laid on my skin feels like it’s burning. For a moment I don’t even hear the laughing and wolf whistles, but then someone slides into the seat beside me and throws an arm across my shoulder. It’s Nate, one of Royce’s friends.

“Heeeey…shots off Rosalie’s tits? I’ll be in that.” He grins at me lasciviously and then reaches towards Peyton. “Booze this way!”

I lean away from him, and feel Royce’s body curve protectively around me. “Fuck off Nate,” he says.

“Aww man, come on…” Nate begins, but then his words choke off as Royce jumps on him and shoves his head under the water.

“I said fuck off,” Royce says as he lets him up, and Nate flips him the bird and laughs as he goes back to the other side of the hot tub. Royce turns back to me, eyeing me intently.

“Thanks,” I say, self-consciously pulling my bikini back into place as I think about how much of my breast Royce must have licked. The alcohol has hit hard and the heat of the tub isn’t helping at all- everything seems slightly dreamy and unfocussed.

“That’s okay.” Royce slides back next to me, closer this time, and with his arm wrapped around my back to hold me against his side. His breath tickles my ear as he leans closer. “I don’t like to share.”

“Oh, are you two hooking up?” Peyton leans over from behind us, one arm around my neck and the other across Royce’s shoulders. Her eyes are red rimmed and she has a certain smile on her face that makes me suspect she’s stoned.

“Maybe,” Royce says casually. Below the water, where no one can see, his hand is caressing my hip.

“Oh, that is so adorable,” Peyton slurs. “The quarterback and the cheerleader together…such a beautiful cliché!” She laughs and kisses my cheek before she looks at Royce. “I mean, Rosalie _is_ a professional virgin so there is that to consider…”

“Peyton!” I’m furious, sick of my so-called friends always teasing me about that and really not wanting to get into the issue with Royce _now._ For god’s sake, we’re just getting close here, we haven’t even made out yet!

“Oh, what?” Peyton giggles. “I’m only telling the _truth_ …shouldn’t Royce know that he’s going to be limited to nothing but a bit of hand action, if that, from you?”

She’s talking loud enough for everyone else in the hot tub to hear, and there’s a lot of laughter. Angry and embarrassed I scowl at her and get out of the hot tub, ignoring the jokes and obscene comments that follow me. It’s late, and everyone is drunk enough that my virginity is as good a joke as anything.

I stomp over to the pool cabana and grab a dry towel, rubbing briskly. I’m looking for my dress in the jumble of clothes scattered on a bench when I become aware of someone lounging against the door frame.

“Don’t worry about me,” Royce says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. “Go ahead and get changed, I can wait.”

I stand still, looking at him. “I don’t think I will.”

Royce laughs and comes closer to me. “So it’s true then, what Peyton was saying?”

I shrug, picking up my dress and smoothing it out so I don’t have to look at him.

“We wondered.” Royce seems amused. “The guys talk, and no one on the team has ever nailed you. We didn’t know if you were giving it away outside though.”

I scowl at him. “Screw all of you. It’s got nothing to do with anyone else.”

“Hey, don’t get mad.” Royce comes closer, and looks down at me with a smile as he rubs my arms, which are coming up in goose bumps. “You’re right that it’s nothing to do with them.” He lowers his head and brushes his lips across mine. “It’s not like I care…I think it’s cool.”

I shiver, and don’t resist as he draws me closer until I’m pressed against him. The evening chill is swept away in front of the wave of heat and desire that washes through my body. “You do?”

“Oh yeah,” Royce murmurs, kissing me again and running his hands down my back. “I mean…it might be something I want to _change_ , but I like that you haven’t been with anyone.” He kisses me deeper, his tongue in my mouth, before he whispers, “I told you that I don’t like to share.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything really, because Royce is kissing me in a way that sends my heartbeat racing and leaves no room for thoughts of anything but him. _He doesn’t want to share…he wants me._ The stubble shadowing his jaw is rough against my skin but his lips are more than soft enough to make up for it. He tastes like bourbon.

I’m dizzy with the intensity of this. I’ve kissed a lot of people before, and it’s been good and bad and messy and arousing and awkward and funny at times, but it’s never been like _this._ I’ve never made out with someone who has kissed me with the confident assurance that Royce does, and I’ve never felt my whole body responding like I am now. It feels like my body is liquefying with heat and arousal, and time is measured only in the pounding beat of my heart.

Royce pulls away first. His breathing is heavier than usual as he looks down at me and then grins. “Woah babe, if you don’t want me changing your virgin status right now in this damn pool house you’d better cut that out.”

I laugh a little breathlessly. I’m still in my damp bikini and Royce is wearing a pair of boardies…it’s pretty clear that he’s more than ready to move the making out on to the next level. “Okay,” I say. I turn my back on him and look for my dress, but as soon as I spot it on the floor and bend down to pick it up I hear Royce’s teasing growl. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck, his cock nudging up against my ass as he presses his thighs against mine.

“Or we could just find somewhere else,” he murmurs, beginning to fondle my breasts.

My bikini bottoms are really _not_ staying in place very well, but his hands on my breasts and his teeth on my neck are so distracting… it’s only when the message alert on my phone sounds that I come back to myself and wriggle free of his grasp.

 _Are you coming home tonight?_ It’s Jasper, checking up on me. My dad has never really enforced any sort of curfew and so Jasper and I have always had pretty free rein to go where we want and do what we want, but we always keep tabs on each other.

“It’s my brother,” I say to Royce. “I should get home.” _Be on my way soon_ I text back, and then quickly pull my dress over my head.

“Your brother…? Oh right, that Jasper guy.”

I hide my smile. _That Jasper guy._ “Yes.”

Royce sits on one of the benches, leaning forward on his knees and cracking his knuckles as he watches me find my shoes and slip into them. “Do you really have to go?”

I hesitate, but nod. “Yeah, I do.” The pool house is starting to blur around the edges and as I take an unsteady step in my heels I realise how drunk I am. I want to go home and think about tonight and what kissing Royce the way I did might mean.

Royce laughs as he jumps up and slides an arm around my waist. “You’re so fucking pissed. How are you getting home?”

“Cab,” I say with a giggle, leaning against him for a moment. He’s warm, and feels strong and steady. “I have to call for one.”

“Come on then.”

Royce walks me through the scattered groups of people still milling around on the deck by the pool, and they all stare. I know they’re whispering, that they will all think we look good together, that so many of them will be jealous. _You’re so lucky Rosalie!_ I’ve heard the words all my life, and I turn my head and smile at Royce from under lowered lashes and he squeezes my waist possessively.

I call for a cab once Royce and I are in the relative quiet of the kitchen, and the dispatcher says one will be along shortly. I’m surprised and pleased when Royce walks out the front with me and sits on the steps to wait.

“Let me have your phone,” he says and I hand it over without a second thought. “I’ve put my number in,” he says a few minutes later, passing it back. “And I’ve texted myself yours.”

“Okay.” I play with the ends of my hair until Royce grabs my face and turns it towards his.

“I had a good time with you tonight. I hope you did too?” he says, eyeing me intently, and then when I nod his mouth comes down on mine and he starts kissing me again.

We stop only when we hear the impatient blare of the cab horn, and then I pull away and stand up hurriedly, pulling my dress back down straight. “I’ve got to go,” I say reluctantly.

“Okay,” Royce groans as he stands up and stretches. He grins at me. “Damn, you’re sexy Rosalie…eat lunch with me Monday?”

I’m walking backwards towards where the cab is waiting, and I toss my hair and grin. Inside I’m dancing. “Okay then…but I _really_ have to go.”

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

At home I take off my heels by the front door and carry them in my hand as I stumble up the stairs. My dad probably _wouldn’t_ care that I’m getting home at 3am, but I’d rather not wake him up all the same.

Jasper wakes up when I trip over the top step and crash into the wall as I flip the light switch when I reach our floor. So do his friends, who are all grumbling in the light and shielding their eyes with blankets from wherever they’ve sacked out to sleep.

“Sorry guys,” Jasper murmurs, switching the light back off and propelling me towards my room. “Go back to sleep….Rosalie, go to bed.”

I’ve left my lamp on and the room is warm and inviting as I fall across the bed and smile blissfully at Jasper. “I love you, Jas.”

His irritated expression fades, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile and sits on the bed beside me. “God, how drunk are you?”

“Little bit.” I giggle as I tug the bands and clips from my hair. “You should have come to the party tonight. It was really fun.”

Jasper turns his back as I wriggle rapidly out of my dress and bikini and into some panties and a t shirt. “The guys and I had fun here,” he says, not looking. “Played some games…it was good.”

I throw myself down on the bed beside Jasper. “Royce King likes me. I kissed him in the hot tub and he’s going to call me,” I say cheerfully.

“Wonderful,” Jasper says dryly, sitting beside me and looking at me with his eyebrows raised.

“It is wonderful,” I say with a giggle. “He’s so good looking, and…”

“I don’t need to know,” Jasper snorts, giving me a gentle shove. “Seriously Rose, kiss whoever you like, but you don’t have to tell me all the details. Now go to sleep, and if you puke I’m not cleaning it up.”

I laugh and roll over, hugging one of the pillows on my bed. “Goodnight Jasper.”


	4. Lunchdate

I dress carefully for school on Monday. I want to look good in case Royce follows up on what happened on Saturday night, but I don’t want to look like I’m making a play for him if he’s not interested in more than a casual hook up. With his history of being a player I know what’s more likely, but he definitely seemed interested on Saturday night. After a bit of deliberation I put on my favourite jeans and a lace edged peasant top that meets the dress code but also shows off some good cleavage, and bunch my hair up in a messy topknot. As I drive to school there’s a pleasurable shiver of anticipation deep inside.

  Royce is a year older than me, so we don’t share any classes, although we’re both in the B lunch period. I glance casually around when I walk into the cafeteria but don’t see him anywhere, so I saunter over to the lunch line and wait my turn. I’m trying to see past the people in front of me to see what the hot lunch looks like today, when someone bumps into my back.

“Hey.”

I know that voice, and I’m already smiling when I turn around to see Royce. “Hey you.”

Behind him a boy scowls at him for cutting in line, but Royce doesn’t even notice. He’s looking at me with a grin as he shoves his hands in his pockets and says, “You still want to eat lunch together?”

I shrug, even as my stomach jumps with glee. “Sure. I’ve just got to buy something.” The line inches forward and I see that they’re serving chow mein or lasagne as the main hot lunch, and I wrinkle my nose. “I guess I’ll get a salad.”

Royce grabs a tray and fills up his plate with lasagne and a side of fries, and I take a plastic boxed Greek salad. Royce’s fingers brush against mine as he takes the salad from my hands. “I’ll get these if you want to grab a couple of sodas?”

“Okay.” Trying to keep my grin under control I head over to the refrigerators and grab a couple of bottles of soda. It feels like such a couple thing to do, him getting the food and me getting the drinks, and for a moment my imagination takes flight. _Maybe this is what it’s actually going to be like…he might actually really like me and want to be together._

I swipe my food card for the sodas and then look to Royce.

“I thought we could eat outside?” he suggests.

“Sure.” I follow him across the cafeteria to the doors that lead to senior courtyard. A few of his friends call out to him as they see us go past their usual table, but he just waves with a smirk and keeps walking. Jasper and his friends are at the table by the door, and he raises his eyebrows at me pointedly. I poke my tongue out at him and duck through the door that Royce backs into and holds open for me.

“Thanks,” I say, as he places the tray on an empty picnic table. I sit across from him, feeling the warm sun on my shoulders and the wind making the loose tendrils of my hair tickle my neck.

“Is that your brother?” Royce asks, nodding at Jasper through the glass door.

“Yes, that’s Jasper,” I say, opening my salad.

“I don’t know him,” Royce says. “He’s not into football?”

I shake my head. “Not really. He likes baseball and he and his friends play in a hockey comp each winter, but he’s not serious about it.” I start eating my salad. “You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. I’m the one and only.” Royce starts eating too. “So, I had a good time on Saturday night,” he adds casually.

“Oh yeah?” I say archly, raising my eyebrows at him.

Unabashed, Royce laughs at me. “Yeah. I did…you’re a hot girl and I like hanging out with you.”

I can feel myself blushing. “You say that to all the girls.”

“You don’t want me saying it to any other girls?”

I shrug and eat some more salad before I say lightly, “You can say it to whoever you want.” Looking him directly in the eye I say, “But I’ve told you before…I’m not one of your groupies and I’m not really interested in being just one of the many girls you’re holding on a string.”

“You think I’ve got groupies?” Royce seems highly amused.

I giggle. “I hang out in the girls’ locker room… I _know_ you’ve got groupies.”

Royce is watching me eat, smiling broadly. “Well, maybe I’ve had enough of the groupies for a while. Maybe I’m looking for something else.”

“Well, I’m something else all right,” I say confidently, and then we both laugh and eat, and the conversation turns to more ordinary things.

I freely admit to myself that my attraction to Royce has been based around his good looks and air of confident assurance. He’s taller than me, heavily muscled from playing football and working out, with thick dark hair that’s always perfectly cut and styled. His eyes are dark and intense under thick, well-shaped brows and his teeth are very white when he smiles. Objectively, he’s a really good looking guy. Subjectively I’m highly attracted to him and kissing him at Peyton’s party had been a whole new experience in arousal for me.

Now that we’re actually talking though, I’m having fun. There’s a lot of teasing and flirting from both of us, but we also like a lot of the same things and neither of us run out of things to say. I also notice that he doesn’t look away from me, even when a group of senior girls in short shorts and tank tops come out and lie around in the sun. Even when they call out to him he gives them only a glance and a distracted wave before he turns back to me. I wasn’t sure of him, but I’m starting to feel a smug sense that everything’s working out… _he is so into me._

The bell rings far too soon. I give Royce a slightly regretful smile as I gather my trash together. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got math.”

Royce picks up his tray. “I’ve got a study hall- I’ll walk with you. Your locker is in east wing?”

“Yeah. How did you know?” I toss the trash and then grin as Royce stows his tray and grabs my hand.

“I’ve got my sources,” he smirks.

I feel like everyone’s staring as we walk through the cafeteria and into the crowded hallways. And to be honest, most of the footballers and cheerleaders and hangers-on probably _are_ staring, intrigued by this new development in the endless game of hook ups within the group. Royce has always been a leader, one of the most popular and sought after guys at school, and I know that, even if they don’t really like me, most people know who I am. The way I look, the success at cheerleading, the modelling competition I won last year- that has given me a certain level of notoriety and influence. The idea of Royce and I together is kind of perfect, and I smile at some of the cheerleaders as they giggle at me, and squeeze Royce’s big hand in mine.

At my locker I drop Royce’s hand as I work my combination and start digging through it for the books.

“AP math?” Royce asks, seeing the book.

“Yes, AP math and English and sciences,” I say, half embarrassed.

“Aaah, beautiful and smart,” Royce teases, stepping closer. He peers over my shoulder at the photos I’ve stuck up on the back of the door: a photo strip of Vera and I being silly that we took at an amusement park over the summer; last year’s cheer squad at the JV championships; Jasper and I laughing in our playroom as I give him a moustache with my hair; one of Jasper and I with our mother at Disneyland before she got sick.

“I like your pictures. That’s your brother? And is that your mom?”

I turn to face him. I’m caught in between Royce and my locker, and he’s standing so close that even with my back pressed up against the locker my boobs are nearly touching him. _0h, he smells good._ My heart thuds as he runs his hand lightly down my arm and rests it on my hip. His eyes travel across my face and down to the tops of my breasts which he can see in my top, and then back up again.

I swallow. “Yeah, that’s Jasper and my mom. She’s dead now.” My eyes flick to the picture. Mom is wearing a flowered sundress and her hair is as long as mine. That trip to Disneyland is one of the few memories I have of her being healthy, without the shadow of her ovarian cancer hanging over all our lives.

“Wow, that’s heavy. I’m sorry.”

Royce’s thumb has slipped under the hem of my shirt, and is rubbing slow circles on my skin. I’m trying to keep my composure, but his touch feels like it’s heating my skin to burning point, and I’m sure he must know how I feel. “That’s okay.”

“I’m glad you had lunch with me today,” Royce says in a low voice, bending his head so his face is close to mine.

God, I can hardly breathe. _Kiss me, kiss me please…_ and then he presses his lips against mine and my body automatically relaxes and moulds itself against him. _Oh yes._

I’m not thinking about anything but how hot this kissing is and I completely forget about math class until Royce pulls away from me, exhaling slowly. “Geez Rosalie…you want to ditch math and go somewhere else?”

“No, I can’t.” I’m half breathless, and I smile at him coyly as I nudge him out of the way and close my locker. “Sorry, but I’ve really got to run.”

Royce sighs deeply. “Okay then. You want to eat together again tomorrow?”

I sling my tote over my shoulder and brush the stray wisps of hair from in front of my face. My lips feel fuller than usual after the kissing him, and I can’t stop them from curving up in a grin as I back away. “Yes,” I say, glancing at my watch and realising I’m really going to have to run. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Royce raises a hand in farewell and I turn and bolt down the hallway, slipping in to my math class just before the teacher, Mr Dwyer, finishes taking attendance. He frowns at me but doesn’t say anything as I swing into the seat beside Vera and open my notebook.

“So?” Vera whispers as soon as we’ve been given the day’s assignment. She chews on the end of her pen and looks at me mischievously. “Tell me everything!”

I giggle. My cheeks are flushed and I’m sure my eyes are sparkling- she knows it’s going well. “I _think_ he’s into me.”

Vera snorts, and on her other side Mina leans over and grins. “Rosalie, he is _definitely_ interested in you. We were watching you out of the cafeteria windows and holy body language…the two of you are so hot for each other!”

I make a face. “Please tell me I wasn’t super obvious,” I beg. “I mean, I do like him….my god, _he is so hot!_...but I didn’t look totally desperate did I?”

“Not _totally…_ ” Vera starts, but then she relents and grins at me. “No, not desperate at all. At least from a distance you looked just right. So what happened?”

“Well, we talked a lot,” I say. “He kissed me at my locker at the end of lunch, but it wasn’t like he was trying to get anywhere, you know?” I tap my pencil against the desk thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure if he really just wanted to hook up again, but he asked me to eat lunch with him again tomorrow so maybe he really is interested in me?”

“If you three don’t start doing some math you won’t be eating lunch with anyone but me tomorrow, because you’ll be in detention,” Mr Dwyer says dryly at my shoulder. He taps my blank notebook page. “Ladies, I suggest you spend a little less time discussing your romances and a little more time attending to your math assignments.”

Around us the class laughs, and I roll my eyes. Mina goes red and hastily begins writing out equations, but Vera bats her eyelashes at Mr Dwyer and says flirtatiously, “Sorry Sir.”

“Just get on with it.”

He’s not really angry, in fact he’s looking pretty amused as he looks down at Vera and I and shakes his head, before walking off. Mr Dwyer is about sixty and has been teaching for forty years so he’s seen and done it all. Vera is the perfect mix of flirty and cheeky and has him wrapped around her little finger.

Nevertheless, she and I both follow Mina’s lead and begin working the equations, but Vera tips her head to the side and whispers, “So you really like him then, huh?”

I bite my lip and nod, half shy. It’s one thing to talk about how good looking he is and whether or not I’m attracted to him, but to say that I really like him feels like putting myself in a much more vulnerable position. “I think I do,” I say quietly back to Vera. “I had fun talking with him at lunch, and…I don’t know.” I shiver with delighted anticipation, and Vera chuckles softly.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” But she’s smiling, and I bump her with my shoulder and we both giggle and then turn back to our books.


	5. Game Day

I’m left in little doubt that Royce is serious about me over the next couple of weeks. He seems determined to have me and he’s used to getting what he wants. He and I eat lunch together often, he calls and texts and once even leaves flowers in my locker, and any resistance I had to him is rapidly eroded.

Not that I resist very hard. Royce is blessed with natural charisma, and he goes out of his way to be charming. I like him, I like being with him, and I like the attention I get for being with him. Royce is indisputably one of the most popular and influential boys at school. I’ve always had a reputation for being pretty, for being good at cheerleading and a bit of a flirt, but now that I’m Royce’s girlfriend it seems like everyone knows who I am.

And it’s all so much fun! I love feeling so special, that Royce picked me out of all the girls, and knowing that people are looking at me with admiration and sometimes jealousy. I love going to cheerleading practice and seeing him out on the field at football training, seeing him wink at me as he passes by on their warm up jogs. I love the teasing and jokes of my friends, and love being able to talk about him so casually. It really feels as though the year is shaping up to be perfect.

Our first football game is an away one. I get ready at home, wearing my blue and yellow cheerleader uniform and brushing my hair up into a high ponytail. I’m tying my hair ribbons when I hear the honk of a car horn from outside.

“That’s my ride!” I yell to Jasper and Dad as I grab my bag and thud down the stairs. “I’m going to the game…bye!” I don’t know if anyone hears me as I slam the front door and run down the path to where Royce is standing, leaning against his car and waiting for me.

“A BMW?” I ask teasingly. “Such an obvious choice.”

He laughs and slaps my bottom as I skip around to the passenger side. “Don’t be cheeky. You’ll see the light one day.”

“Classics all the way,” I say cheerfully. “Now hurry up, or we’ll be late.”

We drive to the school and take the team bus to the game, mostly because it’s more fun. The cheerleaders, as well as the team, are both excited and slightly anxious about this first game and there’s a lot of slightly hysterical laughter and forced carelessness in the jokes. Even Peyton, who I’ve never seen crack a book, spends a long time with her earbuds in, focussing on her captain’s notebook in which she’s written down our routines.

“You look so cute in your uniform,” Royce says to me, twirling my ponytail in his hand and then tickling my face with it.

I wrinkle my nose up at the hair and push his hand away, holding it against his chest. Royce covers my hand with his other one and then leans forward and kisses me.

“Oh you two, that’s enough!” Kacey, who’s sharing the back seat with us and Nate, shakes her head at me. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s worse…watching you make out or sitting with Vera up the front while she pukes into a sick bag.”

Royce snorts and grabs me, burying his face in my neck and making loud kissing and slurping noises. I laugh, and look up the aisle to where I can see Vera’s pink and brown hair in the front seat.

“Poor Vee…I can’t believe she still gets bus sick.”

Royce snorts with laughter, and I push him away. “Don’t be mean…Vera’s been my best friend since first grade.”

Royce squints down the bus at her. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. They sat us beside each other on the first day – it was alphabetical, I’m Hale and she’s Hamilton – and we’ve been friends ever since.” I feel half guilty that I’m not sitting down the front of the bus with her like I would have been last year, feeding her mints and trying to keep her mind off being sick, but Royce had dragged me down to the back with him and I did want to sit with him. It really was more complicated than I had expected being involved in a real relationship.

The team wins the game by a narrow margin, and the cheerleading is awesome. I love showing off in front of a crowd, love the way the football crowd is so passionate and committed and responds so beautifully to the cheer routines. I love it when Royce does a spectacular play and turns and blows me kisses, despite his buddies being there. The crowd love it too. When the game finishes and we win, the team all jump into their team hug and then Royce veers off and comes and grabs me, dropping his helmet and swinging me up to kiss me. The crowd hollers, and despite how sweaty and gross he feels and the fact that I’m actually kind of embarrassed at how over-the-top he is, I can’t help laughing and kissing him back.

_I can’t believe he’s mine!_

“You are such a show-off!” Vera and Peyton both grab at me, and we jump together in a three person hug, before splitting apart to cheer the team from the field.

The bus ride back is madness, with so many people hyperactive with excitement over the win. Royce joins in, in fact is one of the leaders, until we’re getting close to home. Then he pulls me with him into the back corner seat and lifts me on to his lap facing him, my legs on either side of his thighs.

“You were great today,” I say.

“You too.” Royce is stroking my bare thighs, inching my already short skirt higher. “You look so good in this.”

I laugh lightly and take his hands off my legs, holding them up so he’s not touching me. No one else is in the back seat with us, but someone might come along at any moment. “You can’t do that in the bus.” Still holding his wrists I kiss him.

“Oh yeah?” Royce frees his hands from mine and then runs them down my back, spreading them over my butt and scooting me closer to him, until my legs are spread wide and I’m settled right over the zip in his jeans, his big hands holding me firmly against him. He lips catch mine in a light, teasing kiss. “What about this? Can I do this?” He shifts his groin, not enough that anyone looking can tell, but enough that I can feel it, especially because he’s starting to get hard.

My breath hitches. “That might…not be a good idea.”

“Why not?” Royce murmurs. He’s letting his body move with the motion of the bus, rocking against me. “You like it…I can tell.”

I can feel my cheeks going red, and I duck my head to hide my face in his shoulder. He’s right…I _do_ like it. I like everything he does to me, and I’m starting to want to do a lot more. I’ve taken out my ponytail and I let my hair fall to the side, shielding me from the eyes of anyone else on the bus as I breathe in Royce’s scent. Unlike me he got to shower after the game and he smells fresh and clean, and without meaning to I make a noise of pure pleasure as I press my lips into his neck and rub slightly against his crotch.

“You know your chest goes kind of pink when you get turned on?” Royce whispers. He traces a line with his fingers from my throat down to the neckline of my uniform. “How far down does that blush go?” He tugs lightly at my top, pulling it down enough to see the flush of pink on my skin disappearing under the edge of my bra. Unfortunately it’s an extremely utilitarian sports bra, not something pretty, and the sight of it brings me back to earth.

With a regretful sigh I sit up again, although I can’t resist a subtle squirm against the bulge in Royce’s pants that feels so good against me. “Not on a bus with everyone else here,” I say in a low voice.

“No one’s looking,” Royce says. “No one can see anything.” His hands are on my thighs, and before I can do anything he pushes them under my skirt, holding me as his thumbs stroke across the crotch of my panties.

I can’t stop the ripple that passes through my whole body at the touch, and Royce laughs softly as he catches the shudder. For a minute he fills his hands with my hair and holds me while he kisses me, deep and urgently. “I know how wet you are for me. I know how much you want me.”

Feeling humiliated I try to turn my face away, but Royce holds me still, his dark eyes intent on my blue ones. “That’s a good thing,” he says hoarsely. “I want you to want me.” He kisses me again, and for a moment he slips his fingers under my skirt and rubs me again. “But you’re right…not here. We’re nearly back at school anyway.”

“Okay,” I say breathlessly, easing myself back off the bulge at Royce’s crotch to sit on his thighs.

He smiles at me and takes my hands. “Do you want to come back to my place?”

I shake my head. “I’d love to, but I’ve got plans with some of the girls. We’re going to hang out at Vera’s place tonight.”

Royce looks frustrated. “Maybe some of the guys and I can stop by.”

I shake my head quickly. “Uh uh, no way. Vera’s mom and dad are super strict…that would cause more trouble than you know.”

Royce is scowling at me, and I tentatively lay my hand on his chest and look at him apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

Shaking off his bad mood, Royce smiles at me and shrugs. “Oh well…another time maybe.”

I nod eagerly. “For sure. I can’t back out on tonight though, I haven’t spent that much time with my friends lately.” It’s true, and I feel a flicker of guilt. I’ve been so wrapped up in Royce and what’s happening between us that I have been neglecting my friends a little. I’m looking forward to some fun girly time tonight.

Vera drives us back to her house. Mina’s already there, sitting at the table eating cookies and talking with Vera’s mom as she serves dinner, and Vera and I fall on the food ravenously. Vera’s mom makes me uncomfortable sometimes, with her in-your-face religion, but she’s a really good cook and I’m starving after cheering all day.

After dinner the three of us inflate the airbed down in the finished basement and tuck ourselves in under blankets to watch movies. It feels like being a little girl again, and I rest my head against Vera’s shoulder and relax.

“So Rosalie,” Mina says mischievously. “What’s going on with you and Royce?”

Vera giggles. “They were pretty hot and heavy on the bus tonight!”

I can feel my cheeks reddening. “Oh, stop it!”

“Come on, spill the beans,” Mina says.

“There’s nothing to spill,” I say with a light laugh. “Really. I haven’t done anything except make out with him.”

“But you _might_ do more, right?” Vera says slyly. “We can see how much you like him, and he is crazy about you.”

Mina nods at me. “You guys look so good together. The two of you just seem perfect for each other.”

Isn’t that what I’m all about? Being perfect? Perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, perfect life…now a perfect boyfriend. _I’ve got everything I want._

“I think it’s amazing that he’s got all serious with you. He’s never been like this before. You’ve got it all going on this year.”

I don’t miss the small note of envy in Mina’s voice. She used to cheer too, but she fell off a pyramid last year and cracked a couple of vertebrae and had to quit. She has also had to get tutoring to keep up in the AP classes, and I think she’s been feeling really on the outer of the social group this year.

I smile at her affectionately and shrug. “I’ve been lucky I guess. I really like him a lot- I want this to work out.”

“So you think you’ll sleep with him?” Mina asks, her eyebrows raised. “After all this time you’re going to let a guy into your pants?”

“Mina!” I swat at her in irritation, and then laugh as Vera grabs me in a bear hug.

“Oh Rosalie honey, you know we’re teasing,” she giggles, her eyes sparkling. “It’s just so adorable to see you in love! And if you’re going to have sex, then we want to make sure you’re ready.”

I can’t help giggling. “You’re too much. And you know I’m on the pill and I’ve heard of condoms too, so that’s all covered.”

“Are you scared?” Mina asks. “I was totally freaked out my first time.”

“You were also in eighth grade,” I say wryly. “That might have been why you were so freaked out.”

“True,” she sighs. “That was a disaster I should have seen coming! But your first time was with Jim, wasn’t it Vee? That was good.”

Vera shrugs. “We tried a couple of times before we actually managed it. But he was a virgin too, so neither of us had any real experience to go on.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll have that issue with Royce,” I say quietly, adding hesitantly, “Peyton told me he’s hooked up with a lot of girls. Including her, I’m pretty sure. And the way he kisses me and touches me…I think he knows what he’s doing.”

I don’t look at them, until Vera reaches over and grabs my hand. “That doesn’t mean he has to do it with you, Rose.”

Mina nods in sage agreement as Vera continues, “You’ve waited because you wanted it to be the right person and the right time for _you_. I don’t want you to give it up to Royce just because he’s older and more experienced and he wants you, and you think you have to.”

“You don’t want to regret it,” Mina adds. “And you can’t go back.” She looks at me with open, honest eyes and I know she’s thinking about her first time, which has always been something she regrets.

For a moment I hug her close, feeling Vera crowd against me and join in the huddle too. “Thanks. I mean it… And you don’t have to worry about me, because I’m not going to do anything I don’t want to. Trust me.”


	6. Sharing More

For a long time Royce and I spend most of our time together at school, in his car or out in public places like the library and the café. I’m slightly reluctant to take him to my house because most of the time there’s no one there, and I’m already feeling a lot of unspoken pressure to take our making out to the level. For the same reason I don’t ask about going to his house. I don’t know if we’ll be alone there or not, but I think that it’s better not to take chances. But as time goes on I feel so much more comfortable with him, and more and more often I don’t want to stop when we’re kissing. I want to keep going and get to know all of him. So when he asks me again to come back to his house to study and have dinner after practice one day, I agree.

Royce lives in a beautiful Georgian style mansion, the yard enormous and full of mature trees and sculptured garden beds. He parks his car on the gravel driveway in front of the detached garage and turns to me with a grin.

“I’m glad you decided to come over.”

I smile back. “Your house is amazing.”

“Come on inside.”

I follow him up the front steps and into the front hall. It’s very opulent, and I can’t quite imagine Royce being a child in this house.

“Royce, is that you?”

The voice comes from a room to the left, and Royce makes a face at me even as he takes my hand and pulls me towards it. “It’s my mom,” he tells me.

“I didn’t know I’d have to meet your mother!” Anxiously I look down at my clothes, shaking my head. I’ve come straight from practice and I’m wearing black booty shorts and a sports bra, with a ripped muscle shirt over the top of it. Yeah, I look hot, but it’s not exactly what I would have chosen to present myself to Royce’s mother for the first time. “You could have told me!” I hiss, digging through my tote to find my hoodie and then zipping it up.

“I didn’t know she’d be home,” Royce says, completely unrepentantly. “Come on, you look fine.”

I follow him into a small, elegantly appointed sitting room, where Mrs King is sitting at an antique writing desk. I have to fight back an urge to laugh- the room and the woman wearing a pants suit and with her hair immaculately coiffed makes me feel like I’ve stepped back in time. Royce’s mother has his colouring, the dark eyes and hair, but she’s tiny compared to him.

Royce goes over and stoops down to kiss her. “Hi Mom. This is Rosalie.”

I smile awkwardly. “Hi.”

Mrs King eyes me keenly. “Hello dear. You’re at school with RJ?”

“Rosalie’s a junior at school. She’s on the cheerleading squad,” Royce says cheerfully, lounging against his mom’s desk and winking at me. “She and I were going to do some homework.”

“Indeed,” she murmurs, and I get the impression she isn’t all that impressed with the idea of Royce and I alone in his bedroom. “I’ll get Celia to bring up a snack. It was nice to meet you, Rosalie.”

“You too Mrs King,” I answer, giving her a smile and then backing out of the room with Royce following me.

Outside in the hall I shove him hard in the belly. “You should have told me!”

Royce only laughs. “What? You should be honoured…do you know how many girls have ever got to meet my mother?”

I stop. “How many?”

“Not that many at all,” Royce says, tipping up my face and kissing me.

“You stink,” I say, but I’m feeling warm in my belly at the idea that this is something special and there’s no bite in my tone.

“I know, I’m going to have a shower before we do any homework.” Royce grabs his bag and leads me up the sweeping staircase. “I wanted my mom to meet you. I really like you Rosalie,” he says, almost shyly.

I don’t answer, but I smile and he sees.

“Am I going to get to meet your family?” he asks nonchalantly.

_I can’t believe he wants to meet my family!_

“Well you’ve met my brother at school,” I say lightly. “And you know my mom is dead.” I sigh, a little wistfully. I wish I could introduce my boyfriends to my mom. “So it’s just me and Jasper and dad, and he works so much if you want to meet him we’d probably have to make an appointment.”

Royce laughs. “Yeah, my old man is the same way- he’s at the office more than he’s at home. Screw him…This is my room.”

Royce opens the door and I go in. His room is bigger than mine, painted blue although a lot of the walls are covered with posters, and has a desk and bookshelf, bed and huge entertainment system. All the furniture is black, with chrome and glass accents, and everything is very neat. There are French doors leading out onto his own private balcony.

“This is nice,” I say appreciatively. “Very neat.

Royce shrugs. “Whatever. Look, I’m going to have a shower since I didn’t get one after practise okay?”

“Sure. I’ll just start my homework.”

Royce throws his bag into a corner of the room and then goes through one of the doors in the far wall. A moment later I hear the water start.

I drop my tote on the bed and then unzip my hoodie and leave it there too, taking a quick snoop around the room. The other door beside the bathroom leads to a large walk in closet I’m immediately jealous of. The books on his bookshelf are a disappointment- old textbooks and year books, and only a couple of popular novels. He’s clearly not a reader. He has so many dvds I don’t read all the titles, but they seem on first glance to be primarily action and horror and big blockbusters. He’s got a playstation and an x-box, and I recognise a lot of the same games that Jasper and I have. I’d love to snoop in his drawers, but I have some morals and so I climb up onto his bed which is made neatly and smells like fresh laundry soap. I plump up a pillow behind my back and lean against the headboard after I pull out my math book. I may as well get something done.

There’s a knock on the door and when I hesitantly respond it opens to reveal a thin, middle aged woman with short cropped hair wearing jeans, carrying a tray in one hand.

“Hi love, I’m Celia,” she says, like it’s totally normal to find girls sitting alone in Royce’s bedroom. “I just bought you and RJ a snack.”

“Oh, well thanks,” I say a little foolishly as she unloads two sodas and a plate of sandwiches and fruit onto Royce’s desk. “He’s just taking a shower.”

Celia nods and waves cheerfully as she leaves the room, and I help myself to a handful of grapes and eat them while I work on my math problems. They’re not hard, and since Royce apparently takes longer in the shower than I do I’m nearly finished the assignment before he comes out of the bathroom, a thick towel wrapped around his hips.

“Look at you, hard at work already,” he says teasingly, stretching out on the bed beside me and kissing my neck.

Despite the fact that he’s practically naked, I can’t resist turning to him and burying my face in his neck while he hugs me. He’s so clean and fresh and he smells completely irresistible. I don’t even try to hide the fact that I’m breathing in the scent of his skin.

“You and your freak for smell!” Royce laughs, and kisses me. “You know, if you like it there are other places on my body that smell good,” he says suggestively. “You could put your face down there and just breathe me in…”

It’s my turn to laugh, although I can feel my cheeks heating up and I think I’m blushing. He’s naked underneath that towel, and as he runs his hands along my rib cage and looks at me I can tell he’s starting to get turned on.

“Have you ever?” Royce murmurs, kissing his way across my face. He takes my hand and holds it against his crotch until I wrap my hand around his penis, still covered by the towel. “Have you ever sucked someone’s dick?”

Now I _know_ I’m blushing, since I can feel the heat of my face against Royce’s as he kisses me. I curse my fair complexion that gives my embarrassment away so easily. “No.”

Royce groans as I continue to squeeze and massage him. “Would you?”

My hand movements falter. “What…now?”

Royce wraps an arm around me and nuzzles into my neck. “Not if you don’t want to. But, I mean….well, obviously I’d like it, and….well, you know.”

I do know. Royce has seemed happy with the making out we’ve been doing, but he wants this and I know there are plenty of other girls who are more than willing to do it if I’m not. Everyone does it, and I suppose if I’ve ever liked a boy enough to try it it’s now, here with Royce… Trying to appear casual I flick my braid over my shoulder and shrug. “Sure, if you want to…I don’t mind.”

Royce’s surprise is rapidly superseded by a shit eating grin. “Really? Goddamn Rosalie…you are so hot.”

I smile at him, trying not to panic. It isn’t that I don’t want to do this…it’s that I don’t know _how._ I try desperately to remember everything my friends have ever said on the subject of blow jobs. _Why hadn’t I paid more attention?_

Royce sits up and swings his legs off the side of the bed. He’s touching himself with one hand, holding my head with his other as I slide slowly off the bed. For a moment I stand beside him and then accede to the pressure on my head and go down on my knees, in between Royce’s thighs.

He’s breathing hard as he looks down at me, and I touch the thick terry cloth towel that’s still laid over his knees and give him a lopsided grin.

“You know I don’t really know what I’m doing, right?” I’m incredibly embarrassed. I have always kind of assumed that when I actually reached the point of giving Royce head it would involve both darkness and copious amounts of alcohol…I had not expected stone cold sobriety and bright, late afternoon sunlight.

Royce laughs a little raggedly. “Babe, just looking at you on your knees in front of me has me ready to blow…it’s not rocket science. All you need to do is put that mouth on my dick and I’m gonna come.”

Slowly I pull the towel open, until Royce is sitting in front of me naked. His penis is right at eye level, and I wrap my hand around it, feeling the odd juxtaposition between the softness of the skin and the hardness of what lies underneath. I’ve never seen a real erect penis before. My friends and I all spent a ninth grade sleepover at my house looking up internet porn once and that’s my only reference. Somehow it’s all different when it’s real and right there in front of my face. His shaft is dark red and prominently veined and the head almost purple. There’s some clear fluid leaking from the tip, and I take a quick breath and then reach my tongue out to taste it.

It doesn’t taste bad, mostly just slightly salty. And fresh out of the shower he does smell good, like soap and cologne and clean male flesh. I kneel up a little closer to Royce and run my hands up his thighs, taking a grip on his penis in one hand and then wrapping my lips around him.

He’s right- it’s not exactly rocket science. I’m sure there are tricks and techniques that would make it better for him, but I think I’ll figure it out with a bit more experience. For the most part now I’m just licking and sucking and touching his cock and balls experimentally. It’s easy to tell by the noises he makes what he likes most. And it isn’t long before he grabs my braid and wraps it around his fist and comes in my mouth with a series of short grunts and thrusts.

I do nearly gag then. He went into my mouth pretty deep, and with his grip on my hair I couldn’t pull back. Plus the thick, almost slimy texture of what he’s just shot out on my tongue momentarily panics me as I’m not sure I can swallow it. But I don’t know where Royce keeps the tissues and I can’t imagine just spitting it out on the clean bed linen so I grit my teeth and swallow, and it’s not too bad.

Royce flops back on the bed, breathing heavily. Feeling slightly smug and a good part relieved that I’ve got through that without any big disasters I crawl back up on the bed and sit up against the headboard. A few moments later Royce grunts and rises to feet.

“I’ll just find some clothes.”

He throws his towel in the bathroom door and then disappears into his closet, coming out a moment later in a loose pair of shorts and a school t-shirt. He looks happy, and as he settles on the bed beside me he wraps a strong arm around my neck and pulls me close enough to kiss the top of my head. “Thanks babe.”

I duck out from under his arm and smooth my hair. “You don’t have to say thank you!”

Royce laughs. “It was good. You’re good.” He scratches his balls unselfconsciously and looks at my homework. “What are you working on?”

“I’m just finishing my math,” I say. “I’ve got some chemistry to do as well, I’ve got Callahan and he does pop quizzes like every other day, it feels like.”

“I had him last year,” Royce says. He plays with the end of my braid. “How did your mom die?”

I close my math book and sigh. “She had ovarian cancer.”

“Wow. Was she sick long?”

_She was sick forever._

“On and off for five years. She died when Jasper and I were eleven.”

“How come I never knew that about you?” Royce demands.

I shrug. “It’s not a secret, but it’s not something I talk about all the time either you know?” I try to think back. “Jasper and I went to Southside Middle School then, and everyone there knew. But I don’t think you went there?”

“No, I went to Jefferson.” Royce strokes my face. “I want to know everything about you. I want you to tell me all your secrets…I don’t want you to hide things from me.”

I shake my head. “I’m not hiding anything.” His interest in me, the intensity of his gaze as he looks at me, the way he is clearly falling in love with me is so unbelievably flattering! This is Royce King, who has flirted and fucked his way through high school and now he’s stopping all his fooling around…for _me_. I give him a teasing grin. “It’s just one of those things that hasn’t really come up until now. Like the fact that your family apparently calls you RJ?”

Royce laughs. “It’s for Royce Junior of course…but I hate it, and if you call me that I’ll bust your ass!”

I can’t help giggling, and then Royce grabs me and kisses me, and the homework and all our secrets are forgotten.


	7. Friendship

“Rosalie, are you almost ready to go?”

I look up. Vera is standing beside me, her hoodie on and her hands buried deep in the pockets, looking at me pleadingly. I’m sitting in between Royce and his friend Damian on a dirty old sofa in the corner of Damian’s basement, playing Call of Duty. And kicking ass- I’ve grown up playing video games with Jasper and I’m better than most of the boys. Royce hates it when I beat him, but he thinks it’s funny when his friends lose to me.

“I guess,” I say, a little reluctantly. “Someone else can take my turn.”

“I will,” Jackson announces, swooping in and grabbing the controller out of my hand. He stands in front of me, tapping his leg impatiently. “Get up and let me have the sofa.”

Royce punches him hard in the thigh. “Watch how you talk to her.”

Jackson rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else, and Royce grins and pulls me on to his lap.

“I’m going to go,” I say to him, playing with his hair. “Vera’s my ride home…she’s staying over tonight.”

Royce’s hands slide up my thighs and curve around my ass, pulling me closer to him as he kisses me deeply. I ignore the jeering and catcalls from his friends and kiss him back, wishing I didn’t have to go.

“I wouldn’t mind having a sleepover at your place,” Royce murmurs, and I giggle lightly as I wriggle off his lap.

“You don’t mind that I’m heading off?”

Royce shrugs. “I’d rather you stayed, but it’s cool. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He winks at me and I bend down and give him another deep kiss before I turn and hurry after Vera, who’s already walking briskly towards the stairs.

“Hey Vee,” I say as I slide into the passenger seat of her Toyota. “What’s up? You seem really stressed.” I look across at my friend with a frown, noting how tightly she’s gripping the wheel.

“Do you mind if we stop at the drugstore on the way home?” she says abruptly.

“No, of course not. What do you need?” I tentatively reach over and touch her shoulder. “Vera? What do you need?”

Vera, still staring fixedly forward, hasn’t started the car yet and her knuckles on the steering wheel are white. “I need a pregnancy test,” she says quietly.

“Oh… _oh._ Shit.” I lean across and hug her. “You think you might be…?”

“Yes.” Vera slumps into the hug with a sigh, and then straightens up and turns on the car. I buckle up my seatbelt and look at her.

“So…how? When?”

Vera shrugs a little. “I don’t know, honestly. We’re mostly pretty careful, but there were a few times over summer that we were drunk or stoned or just figured we’d be careful.”

“Oh _Vera_.” I bite my lip. “I thought you were going to go on the pill or the shot or something.”

“I know, I wanted to, but you know what my mom’s like! If she thought I was sleeping with Jim she’d never let me out of the house again, and there’s no way she’d let me go on birth control!”

“Are you really sure you’re pregnant?” I ask. “Could you just be worrying needlessly?”

“I _hope_ I’m wrong,” Vera mutters. “My periods aren’t regular enough to be sure of anything, and you know that I’ve always got stomach issues…that’s what I’ve been telling myself, but I think it’s more than that. I mean, I haven’t had a period for months, I’ve been throwing up, my boobs are overflowing all my bras…and I’m either growing a baby or I’ve got a stomach tumour.”

“Oh shit Vera, that sounds bad.” I curl a streamer of hair around my fingers and tug on it anxiously. “What are you going to do?”

“Do a test, first of all,” Vera says bleakly. “That’s why I wanted to stay over at your place tonight, so I can do it there. I don’t want my mom to find out.”

I nod. Vera’s parents are religious and conservative, and I don’t blame Vera for wanting to avoid this potential minefield. I can’t even imagine the hellfire that’s going to rain down on her head if she presents them with an illegitimate grandchild. “There’s the all-night pharmacy on Davey Street,” I say at last. “We can buy a test there.”

Buying the test is easy. I notice the forced neutrality of the pharmacist who rings up the purchase, but when I think about how this must look I don’t blame him. I’m still wearing my cheerleader uniform and probably smell like booze, and with the baggy pink hoodie over her uniform and her face scrubbed clean of make-up Vera looks younger than she is. We’re practically an after-school special.

Neither of say much else until we’re home in my room with the door closed. Vera sits hunched on the edge of the bed with her face in her hands, while I open up the test box and read the instructions.

“You just need to pee on this,” I say, handing her the sealed plastic stick. “It says it’s most accurate with your first pee in the morning…”

“I’m not waiting,” Vera interrupts, sitting upright in agitation. “I’ve waited long enough, and now I just want to _know._ It’ll still work now, right?”

“Probably,” I shrug. “Go to the bathroom then, and once you’ve done that we’ll set the alarm on my phone for the right time.”

It turns out we don’t need the alarm. By the time Vera walks back into my room with the peed on plastic stick her face is ashen and I know what the result in the little window is saying.

“Pretty much as soon as I peed,” Vera mumbles, passing me the test and sinking down onto the bed, falling backwards so she can stare up at the canopy above her. “The second line showed up right away…oh shit, Rosalie, I’m in so much trouble.” And her blank face suddenly crumples as she cries.

“Oh Vee, no no, it’s okay…” I toss the test stick onto the side table and hug Vera tightly, feeling her body shaking as she sobs into my shoulder. “We’ll work it out, we’ll work something out…” I know I’m talking bullshit. This isn’t a situation that can possibly have a simple solution for my friend.

Vera cries for a long time, and then rolls away and wipes her hand wearily across her face. “I knew it really,” she says quietly. “I wanted to think that I might not be…but I knew I was.”

I reach across and squeeze her hand. “Does Jim know it’s a possibility?”

“No,” Vera shook her head. “He’s been so stressed out with sorting out his apprenticeship I didn’t want to worry him. I don’t know what he’s going to say.” Her eyes spill over with tears again.

“He’s a good guy,” I say with conviction. Vera’s boyfriend is solid, dependable and boring, at least to me, but Vera loves him and I know he adores her. “He’ll be behind whatever you want to do.”

“If my mom and dad don’t kill us both first,” Vera mumbles. “They are going to be so angry with me!”

“They don’t have to know anything,” I say tentatively. “I mean, if you decide not to have it…you can go to the clinic and no one has to know. I’ll go with you if you need someone...if you want.”

Vera shrugs despondently. “I don’t know if I can do that…I mean, an abortion? Would you?”

I think about my future, about cheerleading and college and everything I want to do with my life, and nod slowly. “Yeah, I probably would. But if you don’t want to, there’s adoption too, you could think about that.”

“I need to talk to Jim,” Vera says distractedly. “I have to tell him. I can’t decide anything without talking to him.” She reaches for her phone. “Is it okay…do you mind?”

“No! Take as long as you want.” I jump off the bed and leave, closing the door behind me. Jasper’s door is open and I wander in and throw myself down on the bed beside him.

“Hi Rose,” Jasper murmurs. “You’re home early.”

“Vera’s staying over, and it was pretty boring at Damian’s house tonight,” I say, fluffing up a pillow and settling back beside Jasper, who’s lying with his hands behind his head watching tv. “Vera’s pregnant,” I add, unable to think of anything else.

“What?” Jasper jerks his head up in surprise. “Really?”

I nod. “She just did a test. Don’t tell anyone.”

Jasper shakes his head. “Of course I won’t. Geez, what’s she going to do?”

“She doesn’t know yet,” I say with a sigh. “She’s talking to Jim now, but how do you make that kind of decision?”

 “I don’t know.” Jasper gives me a sideways look. “I hope you’re not…um…well, I hope you’re being careful.”

I snort. “Are you seriously trying to give me the safe sex talk?”

Jasper laughs guiltily. “Well, Mom’s not around to do it and Dad’s not really father of the year material. I just don’t want you to get in trouble or do something stupid, you know?”

“Yeah well, you either,” I say. “So keep it covered!”

Jasper makes a face at me. “I’m serious Rose. I’ve been hearing rumours about you and Royce King and…”

“What? What have you heard?” I say avidly.

Jasper looks at me steadily. “That he’s into you.”

My mouth curls into a grin of satisfaction. “Oh, he is _totally_ in to me,” I say smugly.

Jasper rolls his eyes. “Yeah well…I’ve heard a lot of other stuff too, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s going to be happy just holding hands, you know? So be careful.”

“I’ll be fine. _Really_ ,” I add emphatically, when Jasper’s troubled frown doesn’t lift. “Just because he’s into me doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with him. Trust me.” I think about the oral sex in his car and hope I’m not blushing, a hope that soon fades as I feel the heat in my cheeks and Jasper laughs in my face.

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he says affectionately, bumping me with his shoulder. “And I don’t want to be all up in your business about this, believe me! But I want you to be careful, and I want you to know you can talk to me if you need to. And there are always condoms in my bottom drawer if you need them, but get them without asking me because that would be too awkward!”

I laugh too, and rest my head on Jasper’s shoulder for a minute. “I do really like him,” I say in a small voice, feeling as though I’m admitting a secret.

Jasper pats my head. “Well Rose, I hope he makes you happy.”

I watch tv with Jasper for nearly an hour before Vera opens the door to my room and comes out. Her eyes are red, but she seems composed as she beckons to me.

“Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure.” I lead her downstairs and begin picking through the pantry. “What are you in the mood for? I’ve got corn chips and pop-tarts and Ramen in here.”

“Ice cream.” Vera opens the freezer and knocks some of the built up frost out of the way so she can pull out the ice cream tubs. “Does no one in your house ever defrost the freezer?” she asks, adding, “You’ve got peppermint and double choc here.”

“Who would defrost it?” I ask. “Nothing like that has been done since we lost Marilyn and Dad went to just having a cleaning service instead of a full time housekeeper. I can put it on the list.” I gesture at the whiteboard where Dad, Jasper and I leave notes for the cleaners.

Vera shrugs apathetically as she sits down, keeping the peppermint ice cream for herself and sliding the chocolate across to me. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have commented. It’s just my Mom’s crazy housekeeping rubbing off on me.”

We eat ice cream in silence for a little while before I lick my spoon and replace the lid on the chocolate. “How did it go with Jim?”

Vera throws her empty ice cream container in the trash and then starts in the on the chocolate. “I’m going to eat all of this,” she informs me.

“Knock yourself out.” I grab a diet Coke from the fridge and offer one to Vera, who nods and holds out her hand.

“So Jim was _completely_ freaked out,” Vera says at last. “He couldn’t even _talk_. We spent like ten minutes with him just choking and stuttering on one end of the phone and me crying on the other end.” She gives me a lopsided smile. “Does this sound like the actions of two people who are ready to become parents?”

“I don’t know,” I say cautiously. “Does it?”

“I don’t know about ready….but yeah.” Vera takes a sip of her Coke and looks at me, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to have an abortion. I just…I can’t, I told that to Jim, and he said that’s okay. And adoption isn’t…not that either. So I’m going to have a baby.”

My mouth drops open. “Oh. My. God.” I say, very quietly, before I laugh in disbelief. “Oh my god, Vee…you’re going to be a _Mom_!”

Then the two of us are laughing, both on the brink of hysteria as we cover our mouths to try and keep the noise down.

“I know! It’s all so crazy!” Vera shakes her head. “Jim was so good. Once we’d found his voice, that is! He said that whatever I want to do we’ll make it work, and when I asked him if that included parenting a baby he said ‘especially that’ and started crying. He’s actually kind of happy about it.” She wipes her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen or what we’re actually going to do to manage, but right now…it looks like we’re going to be mom and dad.”

“I can’t believe it.” My mind is awash in memories of Vera, from the little girl with the waist length pigtails I sat beside in first grade, to my firecracker friend with her pink streaked hair doing flips next to me during our last game. “If you need me to do anything, just ask okay? You know I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.” I reach across and touch her hand. “I love you Vee.”

“Thanks.” Vera puts her hand over mine. “I love you too.”


	8. Falling Deeper

“Come upstairs,” Royce mumbles against my lips. His hands stroke down my back and then he grasps my hips and pulls me down at the same time as he pushes up against me. I’m on his lap and I groan softly as I feel his erection pressing in between my straddled legs. “Come on Rosalie, come upstairs with me…”

“Yes, okay…”

Royce doesn’t wait, and he rises to his feet, lifting me with him, immediately. I kiss him again, and then he lets me slither down his body so that I can move with him as he tows me from the theatre room at his house and upstairs.

Royce’s room is as messy as it always is on the weekend when they don’t have the cleaners in. His pillows are scatted across the bed with the quilt half falling off one side, and he hastily goes and throws the pillows up to the head and folds back the quilt before he looks at me again. “Come over here, babe.”

Slightly hesitantly I do, stopping in front of him and giving him a half smile. Royce’s face softens and he wraps his arms around me, squeezing my butt and kissing the top of my head.

“This’ll be good, I promise,” he says sincerely. “I’ve waited for you Rosalie.”

“I know,” I say. I don’t resist as Royce tugs my t-shirt off over my head and then fumbles with the catch on my bra until he unclips it and bares my breasts. He makes an appreciative noise and cups me with one hand while the other one hooks into the waistband of my jeans.

“You gonna help me out here?” Royce asks with a grin as he tugs fruitlessly at the buttons on my jeans.

I laugh a little self-consciously. “You’re still wearing all your clothes.”

“My bad.” Royce immediately strips off his t-shirt and then sits down on the bed and starts unlacing his boots.

I step on the heels of my shoes and out of them, and then take a deep breath and unbutton my jeans and slide them off before I sit on the edge of the bed in only my panties. My hair falls down between Royce and I, obscuring my face, and for a moment I close my eyes. I _want_ to do this, we’ve been building up to it, I knew that it would likely happen any day (and I’ve been wearing pretty underwear sets every time we’re together- nice pink lace bikini pants and demi-cup bra today, not that he noticed the bra) but I’m still nervous.

“Hey,” Royce says softly, pulling my hair back and nuzzling into my neck. His other hand runs down my belly and presses in between my legs, fingers searching. “You finally gonna let me take these off?” he says, his fingertips hooking under the edge of my underpants.

He feels so warm next to me, and he smells like cologne and boy and his fingers are making everything in between my legs tingle and throb with anticipation. I cup his face with my hands and kiss him, letting him push me backwards and roll me over until we’re both lying across his bed. Royce kicks off his boxers and then we’re kissing, naked flesh tangled together, my knickers the only barrier left between us now.

 _Oh, this feels good._ I bury my face in the curve of Royce’s shoulder and kiss his neck, squirming slightly as he touches my breasts and then slides a hand under the lace of my knickers, dragging them down my legs.

“Oh, you’re wet,” he murmurs as his fingers play with me and he uses his knee to push my legs further apart. “That’s good, it’s gonna be good…worth the wait!”

I clutch his shoulders and muffle my noise in his chest. _Fuck._ I’ve touched myself plenty of times, been giving myself orgasms for years, but Royce’s big calloused hands feel so different to my own slender fingers. Just the idea of being naked here with him, and thinking about what we’re about to do together, is enough to turn me on even more and I catch the almost involuntary movements of my hips as I push against his hand, mutely encouraging him to touch me again.

“Okay, you’re ready.”

Royce leans across the bed and rummages in his nightstand drawer, coming back with a silver foil condom packet. Kneeling up between my legs he frowns as he puts it on himself and I’m glad he doesn’t want me to do it this time. I know how to, in theory, but I’m shivering with a sudden bout of nerves. I realise that my legs are spread wide on either side of a kneeling Royce and he can see everything, and I shift uncomfortably and try to close them.

“No, don’t.” Royce finishes rolling on the condom and puts his hands on my thighs, keeping my legs open as he looks down, and then up at my face with a grin. “You’ll have to get on the pill,” he adds matter-of-factly. “I hate these things.”

I don’t tell him that I am on the pill and have been for years, to control painful periods. But I let him push my legs further apart, and then smile at him a little anxiously as he leans forward and kisses me.

“Cheerleaders are so flexible,” he grins, and for a moment he rests his full weight on me, making me sink down into the bed as he looks at me. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous Rosalie.”

He kisses me again and then there’s no more talking. Instead he fumbles with his cock, groping and pushing between my legs until he finds the right angle. My only warning is his grunt of satisfaction as he gets it right, and then he’s thrust himself in me to the hilt and I’m biting my lip against the sudden stab of pain.

_Ouch. Shit._

I have a moment to get used to it, as Royce lies heavily over me, before he grunts again and starts moving to his own rhythm. At first there’s a kind of stinging pain, not unbearable but uncomfortable, but then I shift the angle of my hips slightly and the pain fades into pleasure.

_Oh yes…like that._

I can feel my body responding to what he’s doing, my pleasure growing and building…but before I get anywhere close to a climax Royce shudders and comes, slumping down on top of me for a moment before he reaches in between us and pulls out, holding the end of the condom. He slides it off with a grimace and tosses it over the side of the bed and then sprawls out on his back beside me with a satisfied sigh.

I blink up at the ceiling, considering. So that’s it. After the way my friends have gone on about it over the years, that’s it. I don’t feel any different. Actually, I feel a bit edgy. All that build up and then nothing…I wonder what Royce would do if I put my hand down between my legs and finished myself off? I roll away from Royce to hide my grin.

“Fuck…you’re not on your period are you? I guess I popped your cherry good, huh?”

“What? Don’t be disgusting.” I scramble up to a sitting position, horrified to see the broad smear of blood across the sheets. Ugh…it hadn’t hurt _that_ much, surely that blood wasn’t all from me? “Shit!”

Mortified, I flee into Royce’s bathroom, firmly closing the door behind me. There is blood smeared across my vulva and on my thighs, but there doesn’t seem to be anything coming out now, and only a slight tenderness, hardly anything, as I wipe. 

I look at myself in the mirror, combing my fingers through my tangled hair, burning with embarrassment. _How gross_. I really hadn’t expected to bleed- I know that less than half of women bleed their first time, and among my cheerleader and gymnastics friends it was probably less than that, and I had assumed I wouldn’t either. My hair back in place I have a drink of water and then, still feeling hot with embarrassment, I slowly open the door and let myself back into Royce’s room.

Royce is leaning back against a pile of pillows, and he smiles and beckons me over. “Come back Rosalie.”

Self-consciously I slide onto the bed, unable to look away from the bloodstain. In reality it’s probably not that huge, but on the pristine white sheets it stands out like a beacon, announcing to the world that I’ve just given my virginity away to Royce King Junior.

“Hey…it’s no big deal.” Royce’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “It’s your first time…It happens. The cleaner will take care of it.”

“Ugh!” I yank the quilt up to cover my nudity. “That’s gross…and then she’ll know!”

“Awww….you’ve gone all shy!” Royce laughs and grabs at the quilt, trying to pull it away. “No hiding now babe, you’re mine and I don’t care who knows it. Now let’s get rid of that blanket…I want to look at what’s mine!”

I shriek and laugh too as I try to wrestle the quilt back and Royce pounces on me. I don’t stand a chance though, even If I were to try…Royce has a good seventy pounds on me, and before I know it he’s got me pinned and is kissing me again, hard and urgently.

I don’t mind. Not when my body’s lighting up and everything is starting to tingle and pulse, and he’s getting hard again as I wrap my legs around him. I’m half disappointed when he pauses for a minute, and looks at me, his dark eyes intent.

“I didn’t hurt you too much? You’re okay?”

I nod and squeeze his biceps. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Royce kisses me, his hands roaming, before he once again stops and stares at me. “I love you, you know that? This is…I’m not playing when it comes to you, Rosalie.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I love you too.” And I really think I mean it.

 

Royce drives me home later. It’s dinner time but the house is silent and empty. Instead of going to my room or taking a shower or ordering dinner, I slip quietly into the spare room. My mother’s room really, where she spent the last months of her life.

It was my mom and dad’s room originally. Dad moved his stuff into the other room when my mom got sick, so that he wouldn’t disturb her when she was resting, and afterwards he never moved back in. Once a year my dad’s friends stay in here, when they attend a medical conference in town for a couple of days, but apart from that I’m the only one who ever comes in here.

Jasper thinks it’s morbid that I come and sit in here as often as I do. I don’t know, maybe it is, but it’s the way I feel closest to her. My mom wanted to die at home, and so this room became her whole world towards the end, when she was too weak and sick to leave. She didn’t want it to feel like a hospital though, so she kept the big antique four poster bed and it was always covered with her beautiful bed linens. Jasper and I would come in here every day and lie on the bed with her and watch tv and tell her about our days, and then Dad would bring something for dinner and we’d all eat together. Sometimes now I lie on the bed and pretend she’s lying beside me, with one of her scarves over her head and the hum of the oxygen machine in the background, and I can talk to her the way I did at the end.  

My mom’s death was horrible. It was painful and messy, and it left a hurt so deep I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. But her death taught me that ugly can sometimes be beautiful too.

Today I curl up in the armchair by the window, looking down onto our quiet street. There’s a slight soreness between my legs and my hair smells like Royce’s cologne, and my mind is full of what I’ve been doing. I comb my fingers through my hair and brush a hank of it across my face to smell Royce more strongly, and with no one to see me I let the blissful smile spread across my face.

 _I did it with him, Mom. It was fun and everything, but I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel different about about Royce and not about myself. I don’t think it changed our relationship at all, so I’m glad I wasn’t looking for that. I’m crazy about him, but I don’t really_ love _him. Not yet, anyway!_

_I wonder if you’d like him? I wonder, if you were still here, would you make me invite him over for dinner so you could meet him? Would you come to the games and make me point him out to you, and I’d be giggling and way embarrassed in case he saw?_

_Jasper doesn’t really like him. He doesn’t say anything much, but I know how he feels about most of the guys I hang around with. I think he just doesn’t know Royce that well though, because he can be really different when he’s around just me._

_I don’t think Dad even knows I’ve got a boyfriend. Certainly doesn’t know his name, or anything about him. Sometimes I think that’s the worst thing about living without you- we don’t have Dad anymore either._

I run my fingers through my hair again, smoothing down a length of it and rubbing it against my cheek with a sigh. I don’t want to think about that now. I just wanted to come in to my mother’s room and think about Royce and maybe feel like she’s still part of this new, grown up version of my life.

I wonder if I would be able to really talk about sex with my mother if she was still here. I don’t know. I was eleven when she died and although she’d told me that basic facts, I was just not interested in boys then. I’d had a growth spurt and was about half a foot taller than all the boys in my class (including Jasper, which he hated) and all I cared about was gymnastics, dance and hanging out with my friends. When Mom had sat me down and had the talk with me, my main reaction was repulsion.

Six months later she was dead, and I’d had my first period, discovered cheerleading, boys and masturbation, and felt like an entirely different person. Hormones will do that to you I guess. I missed my mom, and I hated having no one to talk to about the ‘girl stuff’ that was overtaking my life. I had to buy the succession of bigger bras I needed by myself, I had to deal with my period by myself, and as all the older boys in middle school started noticing me and asking me out, I had to navigate the exciting and scary new world of dating by myself. Dad coped with his grief by working twenty hours a day and barely even looked at me. Jasper and I talked a lot, but he was a boy and my brother, and there are just some places that he didn’t want to go.

I worked things out in time, more or less. I learned to buy my own lingerie and clothes without my mother’s help. I watched online tutorials when I wanted to learn how to put make up on properly and read websites when I had questions about sex.

The periods took longer to manage, since I’m blessed with a particularly cantankerous reproductive system. I was too embarrassed to ask any of my friends if they bled like I did, and when they complained about cramps I just figured that my knife-in-the-guts monthly pain was normal and I’d just have to live with it. I ate Midol like candy and lost and regained the same five pounds every month when I couldn’t eat for two days. One day when I was fourteen dad’s friend Dr Cullen found me on my knees in the front hallway, throwing up from pain so severe that I hadn’t been able to make it up the stairs to a bathroom in time. He was staying with us that day, and although at the time I was so embarrassed I wanted to die, it turned out to be lucky for me. He referred me to a gynaecologist who put me on the pill, and since then it hasn’t been a problem.

As for figuring out boys and dating…I guess I’m still working on it.

_I just wanted to tell you about it Mom. Losing my virginity doesn’t change me, but it’s just one more little step on the way to growing up. And I love that, but growing up sometimes feels like growing away from you, away from being the Rosalie who had a mom, and I miss you. I wish you were here to share this._


	9. A Different Face

“I’m going to tell my mom and dad tonight,” Vera says quietly, peering at the skinned body of the rat we’re dissecting. “What’s that bit?”

“Lungs, I think.” I look from my textbook to the rat to the half drawn sketch in my biology book. “That’s what I wrote down, anyway. So, what do you think your mum and dad will say?”

Ben lifts out the little rat heart with forceps. “You know you have a third lab partner here? Who doesn’t know what you’re talking about?” He shakes the heart in our direction.

“If you throw that at me I’ll break your legs,” I say.

Vera smiles at him. “Sorry. But you’ve probably heard the stories going round…”

Ben looks embarrassed. Since Vera quit cheerleading a couple of weeks ago because you could see her baby bump in her uniform, the gossip has run wild. She’s not the first girl to get pregnant, but it’s still considered a bit scandalous and everyone seems to love the drama. “You mean, about the…” He waves his hand kind of helplessly at her midsection.

“The baby, yeah. It’s okay, you can say it,” Vera says lightly. “I was just saying to Rose that I’m going to tell my mom and dad tonight. Jim’s coming over after work and we’re going to tell them together.”

“You haven’t told them yet?” Ben looks horrified.

“Nope,” Vera shakes her head. “They’re going to go mad…I’ve been putting it off as long as I can but now that the story is out at school, even if not officially, someone’s going to tell them. Either that or they’ll notice.” Vera looks down at her belly, which she’s hiding very effectively under a tunic top with leggings. I can see the bump because I know it’s there, but if you didn’t know she was pregnant you might just think she’s eaten a big lunch.

“If it goes badly and you need somewhere to stay tonight, you know you can stay at my place,” I offer. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks Rosalie.” Vera smiles at me gratefully. “I might need it…I don’t think Mom and Dad would really throw me out, but they’re going to be so angry it might be easier for everyone if I’m not there for a few days. And there’s just no room at Jim’s place.”

I nod in understanding. Jim’s family is huge and not well-off, so they’re all jammed into a tiny three bedroom house. Jim shares a bedroom with three of his brothers and there’s definitely no room for Vera. “What are you going to do?” I ask, using the tip of the forceps to move more of the rat’s innards out of the way and adding to my drawing.

“Jim and I are going to get a place together,” Vera says, half excited and half terrified. “He’s been saving up to move out anyway, so we’re just doing it a little earlier. We both want to be a real family for the baby. If Mom and Dad aren’t too horrible I’ll stay home for another couple of months, just to save up some more money, and then we’ll find somewhere. Of course, Mom and Dad could throw me out on the streets tonight, and then who knows….Oh gross…what is _that_?”

Ben is pulling a whole bunch of rat intestines and stringy bits out of the belly cavity, looking fascinated. “Hey look,” he says, slicing into one section and lifting out some tiny pink blobs. “This ratty is pregnant…see, one, two, three…”

I’m both grossed out and enthralled, but Vera takes one look and then bolts for the door, hands clapped over her mouth. I have the distinct impression that we’re not going to see her before the end of the period.

“I’m sorry,” Ben looks deflated. “I just thought it was neat.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. Her stomach is pretty weak at the best of times- don’t you remember when we were dissecting frogs last year and she barfed on Kacey?”

Ben laughs and takes Vera’s biology book. “I’ll finish her drawing for her,” he says, whipping his pencil across the page.

“Thanks, she’ll appreciate that.” I finish labelling my drawing and then gingerly poke the tiny rat foetuses spilled out on the bench. “It is pretty revolting.” I look back into the body of the rat, which has now had most of her squishy bits pulled out and examined.

“I’m still thinking about doing medicine, so I have to get used to it,” Ben says, labelling the drawing in Vera’s book with his neat printing.

“That’s right,” I say, remembering. “When we were little we used to play doctor and you always wanted to put bandaids on Jasper or I if we got hurt.”

Ben is blushing. “Yeah, I guess. And you were always going to be a ballerina or a model or a princess…or a pirate princess.”

I laugh, thinking fondly of the little kids we’d been once. “Jasper wanted to be a fireman, so he’d practise by rescuing us from the treehouse. And you two were always ganging up on me.” I stick my tongue out at Ben, who blushes even redder.

“I know, we were mean…but you were so bossy! It took the two of us to stand up to you, you know- neither of us were brave enough to take you on by ourselves.” Ben laughs and begins bundling the remains of the rat together as the teacher calls for everyone to pack up.

I sniff and wipe away pretend tears, but I’m just being silly. I _was_ a bossy little girl who saw no reason at all why Jasper and Ben shouldn’t willingly serve me as my minions. And it’s nice to talk to him again; he and Jasper and I were best friends as pre-schoolers, and even well into elementary school Vera and I would join Jasper and Ben and their other friends for their activities. It wasn’t until we were older that things changed. Vera and I hit puberty and decided they were babies and we were too mature for them, and then they grew up and looked at me and pretty turned into beautiful and beautiful turned into sexy and suddenly I wasn’t just Jasper’s sister anymore and they were too scared to talk to me. Ben has come round a bit, especially since he and I were lab partners last year, but this year he’s usually lab partners with Matthias. Today we had to share the rats though, and I’m glad he joined me and Vera.

“I’ll throw this out, if you want to chuck the instruments in the sink,” Ben says, and I nod as I gingerly pick up the scalpels and forceps we’ve been using. Once I’ve done that I pile Vera’s books up with mine and wait for the bell.

“It’s funny to think about when we were little kids,” Ben says, a little bit shyly. “Especially now, when I think that Vera’s going to have a baby.”

I giggle. “That’s my thoughts exactly! Every time I try to think of her as a mom I just remember this awful ragdoll that she slept with for years…its name was Baby Mingo and it had marker scribbles all over its face and it was half bald and completely ugly. She used to hang it up from her bed by a ribbon around its neck so that her little sisters wouldn’t get it, but I was terrified the first time I saw this gruesome doll being hung on Vera’s bed when I went over for a playdate!”

Ben is laughing. “Baby Mingo…I’m sure she’ll be a better mom to her real kid.”

“Oh, I know she will,” I say. The bell rings for the end of the period and Ben and I join the crush moving out the door. “It’s just going to be hard getting to that point I think. Her parents are pretty fierce and crazy strict, and the last thing they’re going to be is happy that their saintly oldest daughter is pregnant.” I can’t help frowning in concern. “I’m actually kind of worried about her telling them, to be honest.”

“It’ll be okay,” Ben says earnestly, slinging an arm awkwardly around my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I’m sure she’ll work it out, and she’s lucky enough to have good friends like you to help her out, so…”

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

I’m caught off balance as someone slams into Ben and sends him crashing backwards into the row of lockers behind us. “What the…?” I look from Ben, scrambling to his feet with his books scattered across the hall, up into the furious face of Royce. “Royce!”

It’s like he doesn’t hear me as he steps towards Ben, towering menacingly over. “You hear me? Don’t you touch her again or I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

There’s a crowd watching now, and I know most of them are hoping for a fight. I see Vera, unable to push through from where she’s trapped behind a couple of big senior boys, looking at me with wide eyes. Ben just shakes his head and holds up his hands, his face scarlet. “Look man, I didn’t do anything…”

“Royce!” I push myself in between them, my books in one hand and my other hand in the centre of Royce’s chest. He feels immovable. “Stop! What are you doing? Stop it!”

There’s a moment of silence. I see the muscle twitch in Royce’s jaw and I know how furious he is. But then he shakes his head and turns away from me, storming away through the crowd. I hear the crash of his fist against a locker, and then the slow murmur of the crowd rises to the usual noise level as everyone jerks back into motion and the day carries on.

“Ben, I’m really sorry about that,” I say distractedly, standing on tiptoes to try and see where Royce disappeared to in the crowd. I don’t see him, but Vera comes over and crouches down, helping Ben collect his books.

“It’s okay,” Ben stands up, not looking at me. His face is red with humiliation. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I need to go and see Royce,” I say to Vera.

She gives me an odd look. “Really? Maybe you should let him cool off a bit and come to his senses?”

“He didn’t mean anything,” I say defensively. “He just…I don’t know. Got the wrong idea I guess.”

“Sure,” Vera says sceptically, and with an angry glare at her I turn and hurry off through the crowd.

Royce isn’t at his locker, so I keep going out to the parking lot, hoping he hasn’t left for the day. He hasn’t. He’s half sitting, half leaning, on the hood of his car with his arms folded over his chest, watching my approach with a set face.

My stomach is in knots. I knew he had a temper, but I’ve never seen him lose it like that and I don’t know what he’s going to do when I try and talk to him. This is a different face to him. But when I stop, standing in front of Royce, he just puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs his shoulders at me.

“Hey,” he says with a lopsided smile, and my heart feels a little lurch of relief. Whatever he’s been upset about, he’s not mad at me. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I just had to get out of there before I put the smack down on someone.”

“I’m fine.” I tentatively reach out and brush my hand along his arm. “What was all that about?”

“I don’t like any other guys touching you,” Royce says tightly.

“But that was just Ben!” I laugh in disbelief. “He’s Jasper’s friend…I’ve known him for years. He wasn’t… _touching_ me, he was just…”

Royce eyes me steadily. “Yeah, I don’t know…think about it from my side Rose. I’m just walking down the hall to find you and I look up to see you with some other guy’s arm around you, looking all sweet on each other…”

I shake my head, feeling unaccountably guilty. How did this become about me? “It wasn’t like that at all,” I say. “Ben’s not like that…he knows I’m with you. He was just being a friend.”

“I don’t go round holding my friends like that,” Royce says flatly. “Look Rose, if there’s something going on with you and that guy, or you want to finish with me…”

“No, I don’t at all!” I say desperately. “I promise, there’s nothing going on.”

“I don’t want shit going on behind my back,” Royce’s eyes are boring into me. “I mean it Rosalie. So maybe you should stop leading other guys on if you want to be with me.”

“But I don’t…” My voice trails off as I’m beset by doubts. I don’t _mean_ to lead anyone on, but it’s something I’ve been accused of before. I know what a flirt I can be, I know that it’s the main way I use to relate to boys at school… “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean anything…you know I love you.” I look down.

A moment later Royce’s arms are around me and he’s holding me tight against him. “It’s okay,” he says softly, his lips in my hair. “I know.” And he kisses me, softly and gently.

Relief washes through me and I kiss him back eagerly. “Please don’t be mad,” I say, pulling away and looking up at him.

“I’m not,” Royce says, stroking my hair back from my face. “But I love you, and I got so pissed off when I saw him touching you that I just couldn’t keep my temper.” He kisses my again, deeper and more intimately this time. “You’re mine,” he whispers into my mouth. “God, I love you Rosalie…”

“I love you too,” I wind my arms around his neck and tuck my head down against his chest for a moment, and he holds me just a little bit closer.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” Royce says huskily. He pulls away a little and smiles at me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…the old man is taking next weekend off work. I know, it’s a miracle, but he wants us to go down to the cabin at the lake. I was wondering if you want to come with me? Will your dad let you?”

“I think so.” I nod, playing with a button on his shirt. “That sounds fun.”

“It won’t be that exciting,” Royce warns. “It’s just Mom and Dad, and probably my aunt and uncle. But the cabin’s nice, and we can go out in the woods or go canoeing on the lake.” He holds my hand and looks at me seriously. “I’ve never taken a girl there with me before.”

I can’t stop the smile that’s spreading over my face. “Well, I’ll have to ask Dad, but I think he’ll be fine with it. And I’ll love to go with you.”  A whole weekend with Royce, in his family’s private cabin at the lake? I can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- This chapter is kind of where it all starts to turn dark for Rosalie, not that she sees it yet. Prior to this there have been signs that Royce isn’t as perfect as she thinks, but this is the first time that his obsessive, jealous love is out there and obvious. It’s the first time that we see the way he manipulates Rosalie so that she winds up feeling guilty for things that aren’t her fault, and feeling more and more responsible for Royce’s happiness.   
> As for why she doesn’t see it when it seems so clear, I think it’s important to remember that she doesn’t know how it’s going to end. Everyone reading this does, and that makes things seem more menacing or evil than they would to Rosalie. She sees that Royce lost his temper, but she’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’s sometimes short with her, or even slightly cruel, Rosalie can easily overlook it and look instead at all the times he’s loving and kind to her. She WANTS it to work out, and she’s going to do what that takes, even if that means ignoring the warning signs that he can be violent.


	10. At the Lake

I’m packing for the weekend, deliberating between taking my prettiest and sexiest nightwear for Royce’s benefit, or filling my bag with fleece pyjamas and thermal underwear for the warmth. I’m also panicking slightly about the prospect of spending an entire weekend with Royce’s parents and his aunt and uncle.

“What are you doing?” Jasper comes in to my room and leans against my desk.

“Packing. I’m going to Royce’s family’s cabin at the lake for the weekend, remember?” I throw both lots of sleepwear in, figuring I can work it out once I’m there. It’s not as though the slinky silk and lace things take up much space.

Jasper frowns. “Rose, are you really sure that’s a good idea?”

I sigh impatiently. “Jasper, you worry too much.” I go to the closet, returning with a handful of underwear and socks that I pack. “Will you get me my make-up bag from the bathroom? Please?”

Jasper rolls his eyes but does what I ask him while I add jeans and t-shirts to my bag, then tuck the make-up bag he brings me down the side.

“Jas,” I say slowly, “Can I ask you a question?”

“I think you just did,” Jasper says, smiling as he sits backwards in my desk chair.

“Ha ha, you pedant. It was something else I wanted to ask you…just for informational purposes you know, not for any personal reasons.” I don’t look at Jasper as I carefully fold my wool jacket and pack it neatly.

“That sounds frightening, but okay, go ahead.”

“Does it really make much difference to guy whether he wears a condom during sex or not? I mean, is it better or…whatever?”

Jasper’s cheeks flame scarlet. “Shit Rosalie, there’s only one reason you’d be asking that and I…”

“I said it was just for informational purposes only!” I exclaim, laughing in embarrassment. “It’s not personal!”

“Sure, sure,” Jasper shakes his head. “Well, for informational purposes only then…I wouldn’t know.”

“Really?” I look at him in surprise. “But you and Faith, last year…”

“Played it safe every single time,” Jasper says, looking at me directly.

“Oh.” I zip up my bag and sit on the bed. “Well, like I said, informational purposes only. I was just curious.”

Jasper shrugged. “As I said, no personal experience. Ned says it’s a little different, maybe a bit better,” he says, referring to one of his friends, “But for most guys getting to have sex at all is great enough that they don’t care. So if Royce is giving you a hard time just tell him to shove it because…”

“Oh, shut up!” I said, irritated. “Why do you always have to preach at me? I _never_ gave you any grief about you and Faith and it wasn’t as though she and I were friends. You don’t even _know_ Royce and yet you keep making judgements…”

“Okay, okay, I give in!” Jasper holds his hands up in surrender and grins at me. “I just want you to be safe and careful Rose, that’s all.”

“I can make choices for myself,” I say pointedly. “But thank you all the same.”

“His parents are going to be there anyway, aren’t they?” Jasper asks.

I nod, moving over to the dressing table and brushing my hair before dividing it into two and beginning to braid. “Yes, his parents and his aunt and uncle. So you know I’m going to have to be on my best behaviour.”

Jasper snorts. “Best behaviour, you…yeah right.”

“You know I can be perfectly angelic when I have a mind to be!” But I’m laughing too…no one knows me like Jasper and even his teasing is done with loving good humour.

As I finish my braids I hear Dad calling from downstairs. He’s just got home, and Royce and his parents have arrived at the same time to pick me up. I quickly shrug into my cardigan sweater and pull on my boots and clatter down the stairs with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

Dad’s outside, talking to Royce’s dad by the limousine pulled up at the kerb. Royce is waiting for me in the doorway, and I stop in front of him with a smile.

“Hi.”

“You look cute.” Royce tugs on one of my plaits, pulling my face closer to his so he can kiss me, and sliding the strap of my bag off. “I’ll carry this for you.”

I look at the limousine and raise my eyebrows at Royce. “Even going to a cabin in the woods you can’t drive around in a car like normal people?”

Royce rolls his eyes at me. “I know. But the old man didn’t want to drive because he’s got some work to finish up on the way, and since Carver would be coming anyway – he’s Dad’s security guy – he thought he may as well drive.”

To be honest I’m just feeling intimidated by the limousine and the way it reminds me of Royce’s family’s extreme wealth. My dad is very successful in his field and we certainly don’t struggle for money, but we’re not in the same league as the Kings. The idea of spending the next couple of hours face to face with Royce’s parents in the back of a limo isn’t settling my nerves either. But I make a conscious effort to let go of the braid I’ve wound around my hand in my agitation and follow Royce down the front walk to the car.

The driver takes my bag from Royce and stows it in the trunk, while Royce grabs my hand and takes me over to his father. “Dad, this is Rosalie.”

The look Mr King gives me is coolly assessing, and for a moment I want to back away. The man is cold. But then his face lightens and he smiles in a way that is so much like Royce that I instinctively smile back. Whatever criteria he was judging me by, I think I’ve passed and won his approval, at least for now.

“Rosalie, it’s great to meet you at last,” he says, shaking my hand firmly. “RJ talks about you a lot.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” I return his grip. “Thank you for having me for the weekend.”

“You’re very welcome.” He turns back to my dad and they finish their conversation. They’ve met on a few prior occasions and know a lot of the same people.

Royce, standing where no one can see him, slides a hand down inside my jeans and squeezes my ass, and I resist the urge to turn around and thump him. Instead I subtly reach behind me and grab his wrist, trying unsuccessfully to pull him away. Royce laughs under his breath, and it’s not until I give up that he takes his hand out of my pants.

“Have a good time and be a good girl,” Dad says to me. “I’ll see you Monday.”

I give him a quick kiss and then Royce guides me into the car and pushes me to the far corner where I take a seat. Royce’s mother is seated across from me, and she points to the phone held up to her ear and then mimes a hello to me. I smile and nod in a silent return greeting.

I’m self-conscious at first, driving through the Rochester traffic and then out towards the lake in the luxury car, with Royce’s mother making polite conversation and his father talking on the phone and flipping through screens on a tablet computer. But Royce is relaxed, and when Mrs King answers another call on her phone he starts teasing me with gummi worms and then we play some games on the ipad and share his earbuds to listen to music, and it’s not a bad drive in the end.

The cabin leaves me speechless. I’m expecting something small and woodsy, a three bears sort of cabin, small and cosy. Although the cabin is made of wood, that’s the only way it resembles the house of my imagination- instead it’s a vast split level home with enormous windows offering beautiful views of the lake and the woods. Inside, the cabin features beautiful timber and an amazing natural stone fireplace along with luxury furnishings and every mod con you can imagine.

“This is gorgeous,” I tell Royce, and he hugs me.

“I’m glad you came.”

“RJ, you can show Rosalie upstairs,” his mother says. “She can sleep in the blue room, and Leyton and Caroline will have the yellow room. You’ll have your room of course.”

For a fleeting moment Royce looks angry, but then he grins at his mom and picks up my bag as well as his own. “Come on upstairs and I’ll show you your room.”

I follow him up the spiral staircase to the upper floor, and he stops by the first door at the head of the stairs. “This is my room,” he says, throwing his bag in. I look past him and see a room with a mix of striped wallpaper and wooden walls, a stars-and-stripes quilt cover on the wood framed bed and a low window seat piled with cushions.

Royce smiles at me a little ruefully. “Mom’s put you in the room at the other end of the hall…I think she’s trying to tell me something.”

I giggle, but I really don’t mind where I sleep. Royce and I do end up in bed a lot, but the idea of sleeping together all night and having sex in the same house as his parents feels weird.

The blue room is smaller than his room and beautiful. The walls are painted a light eggshell blue, and the antique brass bed is covered with beautiful blue and white embroidered linens. There’s also an old fashioned dressing table against the wall and a steamer trunk at the end of the bed, which Royce drops my bag on to.

“The bathroom is across the hall and there are towels in there,” Royce says. “You’ll have to share it with Carver, he’s sleeping in the room next to mine. I’ve got my own bathroom, and the yellow room, where my aunt and uncle will stay has its own bathroom too.”

I shrug, looking around. “That’s fine…this is really nice.”

“Mmmm, yeah,” Royce says, but he obviously has other things on his mind. I find out what it is a minute later when he suddenly grins wickedly and picks me up, tossing me onto the bed. I shriek, but before I can move he’s pounced and is on top of me, trapping me between his legs and grabbing my wrists. “I thought we should check out the bed,” he murmurs, kissing my neck. “You know I’ve never brought a girl to the cabin, I’ve never fucked anyone here…we need to see if this bed is going to be a good place for it….” He mouths at my earlobe and then nips at it, grinding his hips against me and pushing me deeper into the soft bed.

“Royce!” I protest weakly, but my actions belie any objection as I arch my neck to give him better access and willingly open my legs when he nudges me with his knee.

“Oh, you like it,” Royce says in a low voice, releasing my wrists so his hands are free to start roaming over my body.

“Yeah, but….your mom…” Oh, his hands are so distracting!

“Don’t worry so much.” Royce starts fumbling with the buttons on my jeans, but before he can get very far I hear his mother calling us from downstairs. “Oh, fuck it,” he mutters, and then stands up and hauls me to my feet. “Come on babe.”

Downstairs, Royce’s aunt and uncle have arrived and his mother is setting out a snack. I’m introduced to Leyton and Caroline, and it’s pretty obvious that Leyton is Mr King’s younger brother- he looks startlingly like him. Royce and I eat the cheese and crackers and pick at the antipasto platter as the adults talk, and then drift over to sit on one of the plump sofas that look out over the lake.

When Royce eventually yawns and announces we’re going up to bed, his mother watches us climb the stairs. I can’t help feeling self-conscious as Royce kisses me at the head of the stairs and I walk alone towards my room.

I use the bathroom first and then hurry down the hallway to my room. I know I won’t go to Royce’s room, but I am fairly sure he’ll be coming in to me either later tonight or early tomorrow morning so I slip in to one of my sexy sleeping outfits, a deep green satin and lace short nightgown, and hope he’ll see it. When I climb in to it, the bed is luxuriously soft and the fluffy bedding makes me feel like I’m lying in a cloud.

I’m nearly asleep when I finally hear the catch of the door open and then close as Royce lets himself in. He’s wearing a pair of pyjama pants that he drops on the floor before he slides into bed beside me, pulling me close against his naked body.

“I thought Leyton and Caroline would _never_ shut up and go to bed,” Royce murmurs. “I kept thinking about you here and getting so hard….and I didn’t even know you were wearing _this._ ” Royce’s hands stroke the slippery satin of my nightgown and he growls as he squeezes my breast and kisses the back of my neck.

I can feel him getting harder by the minute, and I roll over and face him, running my hands down his chest and then wrapping them round his cock. Royce groans lightly, watching me in the lamplight.

“You’re so sexy.”

I work him with my hands as he plays with my breasts, and then leans in and kisses me hard, his tongue in my mouth. I let go of his cock and curl one of my hands up in his hair, rubbing myself against him lightly. “And guess what?” I murmur into his mouth. “Something you’ll like…”

“More than this?” Royce bends my leg up over his hip and rubs the head of his cock over my clit, making me shiver.

“I’m on the pill, so you don’t have to use a condom,” I whisper, pressing closer.

“About fucking time,” Royce hisses exultantly, pushing me onto my back and thrusting into me in almost the same moment.

I gasp as he slams into me again, hard enough that it feels like I’ll bruise as he keeps on. I dig my hands into his chest and try to hold him back but it’s impossible, and it’s not until I say, “Wait…slow down!” that Royce even looks at me.

“What?” he pants.

“It’s too hard…you’re hurting me.”

For a second Royce grinds against me, irritated. “There’s no such thing as too hard babe.” But when I dig my fingernails into him even harder he grimaces at me and then grins, rolling off me onto his back and pulling me hard by the arm so that I end up straddling his prone body.

“Your turn then,” he says. “Go on top and fuck me however hard or soft you want, and let me watch you.” His eyes are deeply shadowed in the lamplight, but his teeth gleam as grins up at me. “Just keep it quiet.”

I can see the marks my nails have left in his chest as I plant my hands on his ribs and rise up on my knees, trying to work out how to do this. For a moment I’m incredibly self-conscious about the way he’s looking at me as he hitches my nightgown up around my hips, but then I find his cock and slide down onto it, gasping at the feeling of depth and fullness.

This is _good._ Royce plays with my breasts, which intensifies my arousal, but apart from that he lets me keep control as I move on him, experimenting with what feels good and what doesn’t work. And when I find out what does work for me it _really_ works, and I come in only minutes, biting my lip hard to hold back my noise. Royce grabs my hips then and holds me hard down on him as he drives up into me, sometimes so hard it hurts, but before I can tell him to stop he does it again and then he comes, pulling me down to lie on top of him so that his noises are muffled in my shoulder.

I roll off, curling up against him and resting my head on his arm as his fingers lightly play with the ends of my hair. “I love you,” I say softly.

“I love you too,” Royce says, giving me a sleepy smile and a kiss. “I have to go back to my room though…see you in the morning?”

I nod and he gently tugs on my hair before stepping into his pyjama pants and vanishing from the room, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

 _This is where condoms make a difference_ I think, feeling the wetness seeping out of my and onto the bed. _Yuck._ With a sigh I slide over to a different patch of sheet and close my eyes, snuggling down into the pillows and drifting off to sleep.


	11. Plans

It’s the cold that wakes me in the morning. I grope for the quilt but my outstretched hands touch nothing, and then I hear Royce’s soft chuckle and the noise of his camera phone and push myself up to a sitting position.  
“Don’t take pictures!” I say indignantly. “Stop it, you freak!”  
Royce is wearing sweats and sneakers, and his face is flushed as he laughs and snaps another picture of me, his free hand holding the quilt he’s pulled away from me. “But you looked so sexy all sleepy, with your nightie hardly covering your ass and your legs going on forever,” he protests, and even though I’m annoyed I feel myself softening in the face of his engaging smiles and teasing affection.  
“Well, delete them,” I say anyway, grabbing the quilt and pulling it back up over my legs. Royce takes another photo and I quickly tug the straps of my nightie back up and wrap the quilt higher so that it covers me to my neck, because my nipples are hard and obvious in the cold air. “Seriously, stop it! You can’t take photos of me in what’s basically underwear!”  
Royce laughs. “Awww…why not? Then I’ll have something to look at when you’re not around.” He looks back at his phone. “These are really sexy.”  
I shake my head, secretly flattered. “I still think you should delete them.”  
“Yeah, yeah; I will.” Royce puts his phone down on the dresser.  
I look at the light filtering in around the curtains. “Is it late? Did I sleep in?”  
“Nah.” Royce kicks off his sneakers before he jumps on the bed and hugs me. “It’s still pretty early…Mom and Leyton and Caroline are all still asleep.”  
He smells like fresh sweat and the outdoors, and when I kiss his neck I can taste the saltiness of his skin. “What have you been doing?”  
“I went for a run with the old man,” Royce answers, worming his arm down inside the quilt I’ve wrapped around myself so he can touch me. “He runs every morning and he likes me to go with him when we’re here at the cabin…we talked about you.”  
I tense, suddenly alert. “What did he say?” I’m a little surprised at how anxious I am that Royce’s parents think well of me.  
Royce laughs and tickles my ribs. “Don’t stress! He thinks you’re very pretty and well behaved, which means he approves of you. And he told me not to get you pregnant, which I think means that he knows I’m screwing your brains out every chance I get and he doesn’t care as long as I don’t knock you up.” Royce strokes my back and kisses his way down my neck.  
“You couldn’t have thought of a nicer way to put that?” I say, a little disgruntled. “You sometimes make it sound like you think of me as some toy you keep around just for sex.”   
Royce draws his head back until he can look into my face, his dark eyes intense. “Don’t you ever think that,” he says roughly. “You have no idea how I really feel about you Rosalie, but don’t you ever think this is just some cheap and easy fucking. You’re more than that to me, and I better mean more than that to you.”  
“You do.” His intensity makes me almost uneasy, but to see how fiercely he loves me makes my heart soften. “I love you.”  
“You’re mine,” Royce breathes. “Mine, Rosalie…” And then he’s struggling out of his clothes and soon I’m surrounded and by the feel and sight and smell of him, and I let any reservations go and give myself to him completely.

Royce’s uncle, Leyton, is cooking breakfast when we eventually go downstairs. He seems much less intimidating than Royce’s dad, and he makes me laugh with some stupid jokes as he throws some extra bacon and eggs into the pan. Royce butters some toast and I pour glasses of juice while Caroline slices up some fruit, and soon there’s a delicious breakfast laid on the table. Royce’s mother is the only one not there as we sit down and eat.  
It’s just the start of a beautiful day. It’s cold, but the sky is clear and Royce wants to take me out on the lake. Carver helps him get the canoe down from where it’s strung up in the boatshed, and then tosses me a bright red life jacket.  
“Mr Royce wants you kept safe,” he tells me with a friendly smile as I clip the straps together and adjust it to fit. I realise that ‘Mr Royce’ must be Royce’s dad when he throws a yellow life jacket at Royce. “RJ buddy, put one on too. The water will be freezing this time of year if you go in.”  
Royce rolls his eyes but shrugs into the jacket. Carver is examining the canoe, which is now floating in the water, but he stands up and nods as Royce approaches.   
“It’s fine, sitting in the shed for so long hasn’t done it any harm. You two have fun.” He offers his arms to me and I hold it tightly as I step cautiously into the boat.   
“Do I have to sit in front?” I ask anxiously as Royce hands me a paddle. “I don’t know how to do this and I don’t know where I’m going.”  
Even Carver grins as Royce guffaws. I feel the canoe dip as he gets in and settled down on the rear seat. “Rosalie babe, the lake is over seven thousand square miles,” Royce tells me, amused. “It doesn’t matter where you go….I don’t think you’re going to run into anything. Besides, I’ll steer from the back.”  
I can feel myself blushing, but then the canoe starts moving and we’re out of the shadows of the boat house and into the sun.  
“Just paddle,” Royce says to me. “I’ll do most of the work.”  
I try, and it’s not as hard as I thought it might be. In fact, the exercise feels good as I keep my paddle cutting through the water and the canoe moves smoothly across the lake.   
“This is fun!” I call over my shoulder to Royce.  
“I love it.” Royce stops paddling, and I place my paddle across my lap and turn to smile at him as he says, “I love being out on the lake. We have jet skis and the boat in summer, but Dad keeps them in storage over the winter. He figures no one is going to bother to steal a canoe, so it can stay.” He laughs and leans forward to kiss me.   
Somehow both of us manage to end up tangled together in the centre of the canoe without either of us falling in to the lake. I laugh as we hug with the bulk of the lifejackets between us, and Royce shakes his head and unclips it so he can hold me closer.  
“I won’t let you drown,” he promises, holding me close and kissing me. “You’re safe.”  
And I feel safe, here with his strong arms and eager kisses, drifting in the middle of a lake so big it seems to go on forever and yet seems to be here just for us. It all feels perfect. I kiss him back, and then get out my phone and have Royce take a picture of us. It’s cute, so I Instagram it to make my friends jealous, and then stretch out and close my eyes, enjoying the sun on my face and the feel of the canoe rocking gently on the water.  
We go back to the house when the sun disappears and takes the warmth with it. Royce teaches me a more effective paddling technique and I’m impressed with how fast we can skim through the water. Back at the house we eat lunch and then spend the afternoon playing cards in front of the fire and snuggling up on the enormous cushy sofa to watch a movie.  
As the credits roll on the movie, Leyton comes into the living area and sits down opposite the sofa with a beer in hand.  
“Where’s mine?” Royce asks him jokingly, and Leyton laughs.  
“They’re in the fridge. Help yourself.”  
“You want one Rosalie?” Royce asks, getting to his feet.  
“No thanks.” I’m a little surprised that his uncle is just handing them out and I wonder what Royce’s parents think.  
“So how long have you and RJ been going out?” Leyton asks me as Royce heads towards the kitchen.  
“A few months,” I answer.  
“He seems pretty keen.”  
I blush a little as Royce comes back, handing me a soda and cuffing his uncle over the back of the head. “Stop interrogating my girlfriend.”  
“Hardly an interrogation. Just some friendly chit chat,” Leyton grins. “What about you, RJ, are your plans set for college?”  
Royce sits next to me, draping one arm casually over my shoulder as he sips his beer. “Yeah. NYU of course, and I’m guessing I’ll do business. It’s what Dad wants.” He strokes my neck and squeezes my shoulder. “Dad and Leyton both went to NYU,” he tells me.  
“Have you got the grades?” Leyton asks.  
Royce shrugs, a little cagily. “My SATs weren’t too bad. Dad might have to…persuade them a little bit, but it won’t be too much of a stretch.”  
Leyton nods. “What about you, Rosalie? Any college plans?”  
“Rose is still a junior,” Royce answers for me. “She won’t do her SATs until the spring, but she’s smart. Does AP classes and stuff.” He looks at me affectionately and kisses the top of my head before he says mockingly. “Not that you need a brain in your head when you’re this pretty.”  
“Royce!” I exclaim, flushing.   
“Sorry babe, but you know it’s true. You can trade on your looks and use that sexy body and pretty face to get whatever you want in life.” Royce squeezes my arm possessively. “You’re far too innocent for that though...because if you can use it, then someone else can use it for their own ends. Isn’t it lucky that you’ve got me instead of some asshole who’d take advantage of you?”  
I smile at him a little doubtfully. “Well, I don’t actually plan on trading on my looks through my life…I’ve thought about doing law or economics,” I tell Leyton. “I think that might be interesting, and there are so many options with both of them. I haven’t thought too much about what college though. My mom went to Wellesley,” I hesitate. Anything to do with my mom is so precious I’m sometimes reluctant to share it. “I’ve sometimes thought I might like to go there. But it’s really competitive, so I don’t know.” I shrug.  
“Where did your dad go?” Royce asks.  
“Harvard,” I say, feeling the familiar surprise that I always feel when I think about my dad going to Harvard. He’s so clueless when it comes to anything at home, I always forget that he’s actually brilliant in his own way.   
Leyton and Royce talk college for a little while, and I listen quietly. Royce seems to have it all figured out- he’s totally confident in his choice and that he’ll be accepted, and that he’ll be joining the same fraternity his dad and Leyton were part of. I haven’t given it anywhere near as much thought.  
Once the beers are finished, Leyton takes the bottles and wanders off to the kitchen. Royce gets up to throw some more logs of wood on the fire and then I stretch out in front of it, enjoying the warmth, while Royce lies beside me, propped up on his elbow and eyeing me thoughtfully.  
“I didn’t know you wanted to go to college out of state,” he says.  
“I don’t know if I want to,” I say, folding my hands behind my head. “It’s just something I’ve thought about a little bit. My grades have been really good this year, but I thought I’d wait and see how my SAT scores were.”  
Royce strokes my belly in soft circles, and I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of his hands and the heat of the fire. I feel blissfully content.  
“You should think about New York,” Royce says abruptly, and I blink up at him in surprise.  
“You mean for college?”  
“Yeah.” Royce’s hand slides from my belly, up under my shirt so he can stroke my breasts. “That’s where I’ll be.”  
But college is so far away…I’ve still got a whole other year of high school to go before I’ll be leaving for college. “But…I mean, you’ll go to college a year before me. I won’t be there for ages.”  
“So?” Royce has pushed my bra up and is rolling my nipple in between his fingers. For a moment he twists, hard enough to hurt. “You don’t want to be with me?”  
“No, that’s not it.” I roll my head back, checking to make sure no one can see him touching me, but all the adults are in the kitchen area. “I never thought about college, and whether we’ll still be together then.”  
I’m telling the truth. As much as I’m in love with Royce, I’ve never thought much beyond this school year. If I’ve thought about college, I guess I’ve kind of assumed that things with Royce and I would cool off once he left. I can’t see him denying himself the pleasure of sex when he’s surrounded by hot college girls and I’m back home and still in high school.   
Royce’s jaw tightens. “Really? You’re planning on breaking up with me?”  
“No!” I shake my head. “Not at all…I guess I thought once you went to college you’d find someone else. I mean, you’re…you.” I laugh, a little self-consciously. “I’ll still be in high school, and you’ll be off in New York doing all kind of new things with new people…”  
Royce scowls. “I can’t believe you think that…what do you think this is, Rosalie? This here, with you and me?”  
I don’t say anything. I can feel his anger, and I’m not sure quite what I’ve done to rouse it. I look up at him, and a moment later his face softens and he lowers his head to kiss me, his hand still kneading my breast.  
“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his face only inches away from mine. “I want you…whether I’m at high school or college or wherever, I want you. Only you. Understand?” His fingers are on my nipple, briefly pinching hard, before he lowers his head and kisses it, sucking the hard bud into his mouth.  
I nod, scarcely breathing as he lifts his face and runs his hand through my hair, holding my head steady so he can kiss my lips again.  
“You’re mine, Rosalie. Mine. You’ll always be mine….while we’re here together, when I go to college, when you come to college to be with me…I love you and want you, and you’ll always be mine.”  
It seems almost too big, the way he loves me. Too intense. And yet…isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? A grand passion, someone who will love me fiercely and madly? How lucky am I then, that I’ve found this? A man who is good looking and rich and who loves me and wants me forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Oh Rosalie…she just doesn’t SEE. We’re starting to get more of jealous, possessive Royce, who really is obsessed with her. His anger makes Rosalie uncomfortable, but she’s still at the point where it’s so flattering and exciting to her, and it’s easy to brush these little moments aside and think only of good times with him.   
> I also wanted to say thanks to those who are reading. It’s not necessarily the most fun story I’ve ever written (okay, it comes dead last!) but it’s interesting to write and I’ve been working on it pretty hard for a while now.


	12. An Unwelcome Intervention

Someone’s tray clatters onto the table beside me, and there’s a scraping sound as a chair is pulled out. I look up from my phone, where I’ve been checking out Twitter and stalking my favourite celebrities on Instagram, and see Vera.

“Hi,” I say, switching off the phone.

“Hey,” she says. “What are you doing here?”

I indicate my tray. “Eating lunch? What else?”

Vera shrugs and settles into her seat with a sigh. “You’re always eating with Royce. I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.”

“He’s got something on,” I say.

Vera rolls her eyes. “Of course he does. Silly me for thinking you might have just decided to eat lunch with your friends for once.”

I bite my bitchy retort back. I’m angry, but I can’t avoid the sneaking suspicion that she’s right and I have been neglecting my friends a little. It’s just that Royce wants my attention so often.

“Healthy lunch there,” I say after a pause, eyeing the three donuts and can of Coke that Vera has on her tray.

“Shut up!” she snarls furiously. “You try growing a baby and see how _you_ eat!”

 _Wow, touchy much?_ I raise my eyebrows and go back to my own lunch, picking through the vegetable stirfry for the things that I like. I don’t look up until I hear a sniffle, and realise that Vera is crying into her donuts.

“Aww Vee, I’m sorry,” I say repentantly. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just teasing.”

“Oh, it’s not that!” Vera digs in her bag for a tissue and scrubs at her face. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch! I just…I can’t…” She pushes her tray away and buries her face in her arms. I can see her shoulders shaking.

“Oh, don’t cry!” I put my arm over her and hug her. “What’s wrong?”

Vera doesn’t answer immediately, continuing to shake with her sobs, although she makes no noise. I just pat her shoulder and wait for her, and eventually she sits up and wipes her face and gives me a watery smile. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” I give her a final hug and go back to my lunch. “What’s wrong though?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Vera says, shoving in half a chocolate donut in one hit. She chews it thoughtfully, and then bursts out, “It’s just suddenly so overwhelming!”

“In what way?”

“Everyone knows that I’m having a baby now.” Vera sighs and looks down at her middle, which is sporting an obvious baby bump under her graphic t-shirt. “Which at least means I don’t have to hide it and don’t have to only wear the three shirts I have that conceal it! But now that everyone knows I can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore either.”

“Isn’t that good though?” I give up on my stirfry, which has gone cold, and look at Vera’s donuts. “Will you rip my arm off if I break off a tiny piece of your donut?”

Laughing, Vera breaks the strawberry with sprinkles in half and hands me some. “There you go sweetie, get that in you.” She eats the other half. “Of course it’s good that I don’t have to pretend that it’s not happening, but now there are so many things I have to think about, and I can’t just ignore them because this really isn’t going away.”

“What kind of things?” I ask curiously.

“All the medical things for one. I’ve got an OB now, but he was really concerned that I’d had no prenatal care and I haven’t gained any weight. That’s only because I threw up everything I ate for months! I’m fine.” She looks down at her now empty plate and then takes a swallow of Coke. “Although donuts and Coke isn’t exactly on the healthy eating plan they gave me. So I’ve got those appointments to fit in. Here at school the guidance department is hounding me to make some plans for what I’m going to do with regards to school once the baby comes. Am I taking time off or coming back, and do I want to enrol in the mothers and babies program they have here or what? Really, I don’t know yet! And then there’s everything with Mom and Dad, and Jim and I trying to figure out what we’re doing…” She shakes her head, and I see that her eyes are shining with tears again.

I feel a rush of sympathy. “I’m sorry it’s so hard. How are things at home?”

Vera shrugs. “It’s okay. I mean, you know that telling them went better than I had thought it would. Lots of tears and some yelling, but no one said anything too awful. The problem is that the tears and reproaches aren’t stopping! Dad is always telling Edie and Annie that they shouldn’t follow in my footsteps and that they don’t want to end up like me. Mom barely speaks to me, but cries if she looks at me. She walked in on me in the bathroom the other day so she saw how big the belly _really_ is and that I’ve got pregnant person boobs now and she had to go to her room with a migraine!”

I giggle, and can’t resist saying, “You _do_ have a lot more going on in the bust area at the moment!”

“I know!” Vera’s face lights up with humour as she looks down. “Finally got more than an A cup!”

“I bet Jim likes it.”

Vera laughs and drops her voice. “He likes the look of them, but they’re so sensitive I can’t stand him to touch!” She sighs and her face goes serious. “We’ve started looking at places to rent. We were going to wait until closer to the due date, but I can’t stand being at home with Mom and Dad now. They make me feel like I’ve messed up my whole life and that I’m never going to amount to anything. And if I’m really such a pathetic failure as they think, how am I supposed to raise a baby?” she finishes, half laughing through the tears.

I laugh too. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. Thank you.” Vera wipes her face. “Give me a minute and I’ll go and get something else to eat.”

Mina and Kacey join me at the table before Vera returns. Mina’s eating a regular hot lunch and Kacey is drinking a diet Sprite and commenting on both the level of grossness and the amount of calories Mina and I are consuming. I just roll my eyes.

Vera comes back with a fruit cup and a package of peanut butter cookies. “Look, vitamins!” she says brightly, eating some fruit.

I giggle. “Tell me about renting a place with Jim.”

Vera grins. “It’s totally fun, and yet totally frustrating at the same time. I love snooping around the apartments when we’re checking them out. But everything is so expensive! Believe me, what I had in mind to begin with is _very_ different to what we’re going to end up with.”

“What’s that?” Mina asks.

“We’re down to looking at one bedroom apartments,” Vera sighs. “I’d rather the baby had its own room, but it’s not absolutely necessary if the apartment has enough room to put it somewhere else. If we have enough room to put a crib somewhere then we can manage with one bedroom for a couple of years, until I finish school and can work more, or Jim starts earning more.”

“How did his parents take it?” I ask.

“Better than mine!” Vera says happily. “His dad gave him a thump on the head and called him an idiot, gave me a kiss on the forehead and called me a sweetheart, and then stomped down into the basement and started work on building us a crib. His mom cried about being too young to be a grandmother, but she’s told everyone she knows. She works at a retirement home too, and when the old ladies heard the story they all started knitting for her grandchild, so I’m getting little woolly socks and cardigans and sweaters every time I’m at their house. I know they’re doing it because they think Jim and I are young and stupid and in need of help, but hey…they’re not wrong really, and the little clothes are adorable.”

All of us laugh. I still can’t help thinking about absurd it is to imagine Vera as a mommy, and I guess I’m not the only one who is having a hard time grasping this sudden jump into adulthood for Vera.

“I can’t believe you’re going to move in with him,” Mina sighs. “I don’t even have a date for the next school dance, and you’re practically getting married.”

“And Rosalie’s going on romantic weekends away with Royce,” Kacey says, raising her eyebrows at me. “Not bad for someone who was so determined to save themselves.”

“Hardly a romantic weekend away with his parents there,” I say dryly. “His mom was very clear that I had one bedroom and Royce had another!”

“Oh yeah, and you went along with that right?” Kacey snorts, laughing when she sees my blush. “How many times did you get laid over the weekend then?”

“A few,” I admit, feeling the heat of embarrassment and arousal as I remember. “We talked about college too though, and he said I should think about going to New York. He wants to go to NYU, and he said I should go somewhere in the city too, so that we’ll be close.”

“Wow,” Mina looks surprised. “But that’s such a long time away.”

“I know! But he was really serious about it.”

“I thought you were keen to go out of state?” Vera looks at me sharply. “You’ve never mentioned New York, not even with Jasper being so single-minded about Columbia.”

I shrug. “I know. But Royce was really keen on the idea.” I play with my hair, curling lengths around my fingers. I don’t know how to explain the intensity of the way he seems to feel about me. My relationship with Royce feels so much deeper and more all encompassing than anything my friends can understand. “I know it’s a long time away and things change, but I’m thinking about it.”

“You should think about what _you_ want,” Vera mutters irritably.

“I do think about what I want,” I reply, nettled by her tone. “But is it wrong to think about what he wants too?”

“If it’s at the expense of everything you want, then yes, it is wrong,” Vera says.

“I’m not doing things I don’t want to do. But he loves me and he wants me to be near him, so I’m taking that into consideration too.”

Mina bites her lip and glances at Vera, and I have the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that they’ve been talking about me. “But Rosalie,” she says timidly. “You’ve only been together about six months…don’t you think you might be rushing things by looking so far to the future? Shouldn’t you just have some fun for now, and wait and see what happens?”

“You’re the one who didn’t even want to go out with him in the first place because he’s such a player,” Kacey points out. “What makes you think he’s not suddenly going to get bored of you and go back to his old ways?”

I look around at the three of them, hiding my hurt. “Is this an intervention or something? Make Rosalie break up with Royce day?” I make my voice sound light.

“No, not at all!” Mina pushes her lunch away. “No one thinks you should break up with him.”

“But your relationship is kind of weird sometimes,” Vera says flatly.

I glare at her, no longer pretending indifference to what they’re saying. “In what way?”

“We’re not criticising!” Mina jumps in. “But we’ve been talking and…”

“You’ve been talking behind my back,” I say, folding my arms and scowling. “Always good to know. And let’s be real…you ARE criticising.””

“He’s obsessed with you,” Vera says bluntly. “It’s almost creepy the way he is about you. Like you belong to him.”

“And I was joking before about you saving yourself for him, but since you’ve started screwing around you’re out of your mind,” Kacey adds. “ _Everyone_ knows about the two of you in the locker room after the game and in his car and at Damian’s party and in the music room in the south wing and…”

“Oh my god!” Half mortified and half furious I slam my hands down on the table. “Like any of YOU can talk!”

“We’re just trying to help,” Kacey whines.

“Well, I don’t need this kind of help. Royce is my boyfriend, I love him, and I don’t want any of you talking shit about my relationship when you don’t understand a thing about it.” I storm out of the lunchroom.

I’m still fuming about it when I meet Royce after school. Vera and Mina and I have spent a math class in complete silence, something so uncharacteristic of us that Mr Dwyer even felt compelled to comment on it, and then I’d had English and ignored my usual seat beside Vera to sit beside Jasper instead. He was concerned, but as the last bell rang I jumped up and raced out, not giving him a chance to start questioning me.

Royce is late out, and I have to wait shivering by his car until he finally appears. At least he doesn’t have any of his friends with him. As soon as we’re in the car I crank up the heat, even before Royce reaches across the centre console and kisses me. We’re nearly at my house before I start feeling thawed out, and Royce notices that I’ve barely spoken.

“What’s eating you?” he asks. “You look mad.”

“Sometimes I hate my friends!” I burst out.

Royce chuckles. “Why are they giving you a hard time?”

“Because of you," I say without thinking. “They think our relationship is weird and intense and we’re too obsessive.” I bite my lip, wishing I could take it back as I watch Royce’s face darken with anger.

“What’s it to them?” he growls. “It’s none of their goddamn business.”

“That’s what I told them,” I say quickly. “I told them that they don’t understand anything.”

“You don’t need friends like that,” Royce says. He pulls into the kerb in front of my house. “They’re just a pack of bitches.”

“They’re not that bad,” I say, as Royce and I walk along the path and I unlock the door. “I think they’re just concerned that I’m moving too fast with you, but they have a really bad way of getting that across.”

“I hope you don’t listen to them,” Royce says fiercely, “You don’t need to pay attention to bullshit like that.” We had to the kitchen for a snack, and Royce lifts me easily and sits me on the kitchen table, standing in between my legs and wrapping his arms around me.

I stretch my arms up around his neck, feeling my breasts pushing against his chest as I tease his lips with soft kisses. “I don’t,” I whisper. “I know that you love me.”

“I do.” Royce kisses me deeply. “I love you and I want you and that’s all there is to it. I don’t need any more time to know that you’re mine.”

His dark eyes are so intent, and his mouth is so soft that I can’t turn away. I wrap my legs around him so we’re crushed together, and brush my lips across his. “I’m yours. And I don’t need anyone if they’re going to tell me that this is wrong.”


	13. The Benefit Dinner

Royce’s father is being honoured at a benefit dinner, and Royce invites me to go with him. It’s black tie, and Royce’s mother calls my phone and leaves a frosty sounding message that if I’m unsure of what would be appropriate to wear I need only ask her. I have a moment’s fierce heartache that I don’t have my mother to help me. I call Mrs King back and thank her but say that I’ll be fine, and then I go to my favourite formal wear store with Kacey and Mina and choose something myself.

It feels like I spend all of Saturday afternoon getting ready. My dad is impressed that I’ve been invited to what is apparently an enormously prestigious and exclusive event and is happy to bankroll the manicure, pedicure, hairstyling and new clothes and shoes. I enjoy the pampering though, and when I finally slip into my dress and shoes and look at myself in the mirror I don’t bother to hide my pleasure at my own reflection. My dress is a midnight blue sheath, subtly beaded to make it shimmer, and slit high to show off my legs. Against the dark colour my skin looks like ivory. My hair is braided into a low chignon to accentuate my cheekbones and the length of my neck, and I know I look beautiful.

“Zip me up?” I say to Jasper, moving as elegantly as I can into the playroom, where he’s sprawled out on the sofa watching tv.

“You look fancy,” he comments, rising laboriously to his feet and taking the zip. “Bloody hell Rose…breathe in or I’ll never get this done up.”

“I hope you’re not implying I’ve put weight on,” I gasp as Jasper tugs the dress together and pulls the zip to the top. I breathe out slowly, finding that the dress isn’t too bad once it’s done up.

The view from the dormer window shows an empty street, and I tap my fingers anxiously on the glass. “So I really look okay?” I say to Jasper, seeking reassurance. I wish I had Vera or some of my other friends here. “The dress and the jewellery…you think it’s all good?”

Jasper laughs and slumps back on to the sofa. “You look fine Rosalie. I mean, I don’t know that much about these high society parties, but you look okay to me.”

I grin at him and angle myself so I can see my reflection in the window. The light catches the diamond pendant I borrowed from the collection of my mother’s jewellery that my dad still keeps in his bedroom and it sparkles in the glass reflection. This is the most elegantly dressed and made up I’ve ever been, and I wish my mother were here to see me.

Down in the street I see the headlights of a car pulling up in front of our house and I hastily pick up my purse. Royce’s parents will be with him, and I don’t want to keep them waiting. “They’re here,” I say to Jasper. “I’m going…see you later.”

“Okay…have fun!” Jasper calls after me as I clatter down the stairs to the sound of the front doorbell.

I open the door to see Royce, looking far smoother than usual and devastatingly handsome in his tux. His eyes gleam as he looks at me.

“You look perfect.” He gives me a grin and holds out a velvet jewellery box. “Bought you a present.”

“Thank you.” I tug him close enough to give him a quick kiss, and then open the box, revealing a pair of long drop diamond earrings. The stones are heavy, and sparkle in my hands. _Holy shit…I think they’re real._ “They’re beautiful!” I immediately pull out the silver hoops I had in and replace them with Royce’s gift.

“Only the best for my girl,” Royce says carelessly, but I can tell he’s pleased that I like them and am wearing them. “I remembered you saying you were going to wear your mom’s diamond,” he adds, touching the stone that’s resting just above my breasts. “Thought you should match.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” I say sincerely, taking his hand in mine and pulling it away from where he’s sliding it down over the front of my dress. “Don’t…your parents might see.”

“They’re not watching.” But Royce grins at me and laces his fingers through mine. “Got what you need?”

I nod, and Royce leads me down to the curb, where his father is standing outside the car. He nods curtly at Royce, and then leans forward and air kisses my cheeks.

“’Evening Rosalie. You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” I smile to hide the fact that Royce’s dad makes me uncomfortable. There’s no warmth in the man. He looks at me with the cool assessment of a person who is used to getting exactly what he wants, and is not sure if I’m going to measure up. I’m glad when he takes his hands off my bare shoulders and I can climb gracefully into the sleek black car.

“Hello Rosalie, don’t you look beautiful tonight.”

Royce’s mother gives me a polite smile that I return. She’s wearing a black gown with twice the shimmer and sparkle of mine and a rope of pearls looped around her neck, as well as some on her wrists, and her fingers weighted down by rings of sparkling stones.

I say little on the ride downtown. Mr King spends most of the time on his phone and no one wants to interrupt him with idle chat. Royce and his mother make a few desultory comments about the evening ahead and then Royce stares out the window, looking bored. A little later he catches my eye and gives me a grin as he makes a face at his dad’s back.

There are photographers waiting when we arrive at the Civic centre, which unnerves me a little. Tonight’s award ceremony and benefit dinner is apparently one of the premier social events in the city, and the guest list is studded with the wealthy and famous and important, none more so than Royce’s father. He’s here to be honoured for the outstanding business and philanthropic successes he has accrued during his career, and the photographers all leap into action as we sweep through the entrance.

It’s a bit beyond my usual milieu, I have to admit, but I’m supremely confident that I look just right and all my years of dance and cheer training stand me in good stead as I’m able to move gracefully alongside Royce and smile for the cameras without any betraying signs of nerves. I notice the small smile of approval Mr King has as he watches Royce and I being photographed and I feel a flush of pride.

One of the photographers, a young man with tousled hair and a cheeky grin approaches me with his notebook when I’m shuffled to the side while Royce poses with his parents. “Hey gorgeous,” he says cheerfully. “I need your name, sweetheart. For the photos- they’ll be going in the social pages.”

“Rosalie Hale,” I tell him, having a sudden absurd vision of Jasper sitting at home in his sweats, eating microwave burritos as he watches tv, while I’m here being photographed for the society pages. It’s an effort not to giggle.

“I’m Jonathon, Rosalie Hale, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles at me flirtatiously. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here tonight? Are you and Royce King Junior over there an item?”

The clear admiration in his face feels good, and I smile back. “He’s my boyfriend.” I look at the camera hanging around his neck. “Who do you work for?”

Jonathon tells me the name of the newspaper he works for, and then holds up his camera with a wink. “Give me a smile,” he says teasingly, and then I laugh as he snaps off a string of pictures. “Are you a model?” he asks, checking the digital display on the back.

“No, just a girl,” I laugh, and then feel Royce’s arm curve possessively around my back and his hand land heavy on my hip.

“Come on Rosalie,” he says, and I’m a little surprised at the vitriol in his eyes as he looks at Jonathon. “We have to go in now.”

I give Jonathon a vaguely apologetic smile and turn back to Royce, laying a hand gently on his chest. “You look really good tonight,” I say softly.

Royce’s tense face relaxes and he wraps both arms around me and grins down at me. “Thanks babe. You’re looking damn fine yourself.”

I ignore the click of several cameras as he kisses me, and then he grips my hand and leads me across the impressive foyer and into the vast main reception room.

  I’ve never been to a party like this before. The décor is beyond elegance, and everywhere I look I find myself caught by the dazzling display of jewels and couture and the aura of power and sophistication. Royce and I are the youngest people here by at least ten years, but it doesn’t make me feel out of place. My dress didn’t cost thousands of dollars but it’s still a designer label and I know I wear it well, and my jewellery is simple and subtle but real. And I know instinctively from the eyes that follow me and the compliments I get as Royce introduces me to the people he knows that I have something that many of these other women would trade all their gowns and jewels for- because I’m seventeen, and beautiful with all the radiance of youth, and that’s something that no money in the world can buy once it’s gone.

The dinner part of the evening is interminably boring. There are speeches droning on about Royce’s father and his business achievements before he is presented with some kind of glass trophy as an award. Royce, who eats his meal and talks to me throughout it, seems even less interested than I am but he rises to his feet and joins his parents on stage for his father’s acceptance speech.

There’s also a silent auction being run as part of the evening’s charity goals, and after we’ve eaten Royce and I go and look at what’s there to bid on. I’m a little astounded at the variety and value of the items on display- flights in a private jet, accommodation in chalets in Aspen and Whistler, holidays in tropical resorts, tickets to the symphony and the opera, beautiful artwork and jewellery and more.

Royce is distracted by some sporting memorabilia and I meander along the line. I’m most interested in the jewellery, most of which is on display in a locked case.

“Are you bidding?”

I look up at the older man who is smiling at me across the case, and I shake my head with a rueful smile. “Unfortunately not.”

“That is a pity…they would look well on you.” The man must be in his forties, but he’s strong featured and handsome, and has an air of arrogance about him that reminds me of Royce. The way he’s looking at me feels like he knows more about me than he should for a stranger. “I’m Patrick O’Reilly,” he adds.

“I’m Rosalie,” I say. “I’m here with…”

“King Junior, yes I know.”

I giggle. I always forget that Royce is a junior, and hearing him constantly referred to as that tonight has been funny.

Mr O’Reilly eyes me with some amusement. “What would you bid on, if you could?” he asks.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I look down at the glittering display, hoping he can’t see the flush I can feel heating up my face. This man is nearly as old as my father, and yet he’s clearly flirting with me. It’s not something that’s never happened before, but even so… “I like the choker,” I say, pointing. “And the tiara, of course…”

“Of course, every girl wants to be a princess,” Mr O’Reilly laughs, and then reaches into his pocket and brings out a key, which he uses to unlock the case. “I’m on the committee,” he says, noting my start of surprise. “I’m a jeweller, and I’ve been in charge of collecting and valuing the donations.”

“Oh.” I feel a little foolish, standing beside him now, but his eyes crinkle up as he smiles at me.

“You’ve got good taste- the choker is the most expensive piece in the auction.” He brings out the tiara, a delicate piece of silver and diamond, and beckons me forward. “Try this.”

I laugh and step closer to him, biting my lip in excitement as he carefully places the tiara on my head, his hands running down the sides of my face as he draws them away.

“Like it was made for you!” he says, and then I stiffen slightly as he puts his hands on my waist and turns me around. “Take a look.”

There’s a mirror behind me, and I give a delighted laugh. “Oh, it’s so pretty! It’s heavier than I thought it would be though.”

“Yes.” His hands are still on my waist. “Real stones will be heavier than fakes.” He brushes my neck as he lifts one of my new earrings in his fingers. “Although these are very nice- perhaps you already know about diamonds.”

I shake my head, and reluctantly lift the tiara from my hair and hand it back to him. “No. The earrings are new…they were a gift.”

“From me.” Royce appears at my side, and I feel a sudden tightness in the pit of my stomach as he looks past me to Mr O’Reilly with a dark glare.

_Oh shit, he saw him touching me. I shouldn’t have let him do that._

“Of course. You have a good eye,” Mr O’Reilly compliments Royce, who doesn’t smile back.

“Thank you for letting me see the tiara,” I say, attempting to smooth over the sudden awkwardness. “It’s beautiful….I’m sure it will bring in a lot in the auction.”

“Let’s hope so,” Mr O’Reilly says lightly, returning the tiara to its place and locking the case. “It’s all for charity, after all.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Royce says icily, and then he’s gripping my elbow and forcing me to hurry away beside him as I give Mr O’Reilly a half apologetic smile.

_Damn it Rosalie, how could you be so stupid?_


	14. "He Doesn't Mean It"

“Royce, what are you…”

“Shut up.”

I don’t want to make a scene, not here in this dazzlingly elegant reception room, so I close my mouth and keep my back straight and head up as I walk as fast as I can in my fancy heels to keep up with Royce’s long strides. He leads me straight out of the reception room, around a corner and a short way along a small hallway before he shoves me through a discreet door and we’re in the internal fire stairwell.

“What do you think you’re _doing?_ ” I snap.

Royce drops my elbow and I feel the ache as the blood rushes back into the area he’s been gripping too tightly. I look down and see the purpling outline of his hand, but before I can say anything he grabs my hand, bending my fingers back with his until I can’t stop the cry of pain escaping my lips.

“Me? What the fuck are _you_ doing?” he snarls.

“I’m not…nothing…Royce!” My eyes are stinging with tears from the shocking pain of having my fingers bent back so far. I freeze, scared that if he puts any more pressure on my hand he’s going to break my fingers.

“Bullshit! You’ve been out there all night, flirting and showing off and acting like a whore!” Royce’s face is dark red with anger and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You like all these old men with their money then?”

“No! I’m here with you!” I cringe, hating the tiny whimpering noise I’m making but unable to stop it. “Please Royce, you’re really hurting me!”

Royce looks down at our hands like he’s forgotten he’s holding me. He looks back up at my face, but it’s not until a tear escapes and runs down my cheek that he releases my fingers. The sharp pain morphs into a strong, throbbing ache and I tuck my hand into my armpit and squeeze it tightly.

“Then why have you been out there all night flirting and letting them all look at you?” he whispers fiercely. “You’re supposed to be mine Rosalie…”

“I am!” I reassure him, blinking furiously to hold back the tears. “I wasn’t doing anything Royce, honestly I wasn’t…I love _you_.”

Royce bends down and kisses me deeply, and even though the throbbing pain in my fingers still continues unrelentingly I cup his face and kiss him back. This dark and angry Royce scares me, and I want him to go back to the way he usually is.

“I love you,” he says hoarsely, breaking away and staring at me, his eyes inches from mine. “I love you, and I’m never going to share you Rosalie…you’re mine. You know how my temper is, and you just make me crazy with jealousy when I see you smiling like that at other men and they’re all drooling over your tits and legs and ass….”

He kisses me again, and I kiss him back, wanting to reassure him that I’m not doing anything to encourage those men, that I don’t want anyone but him. I don’t understand why he would think otherwise…I wasn’t flirting and my dress honestly is quite modest- I show off a lot more of my body in my cheerleading outfit, and _oh god, my hand hurts so much!_

Royce kisses me harder, more aggressively, and I feel his hand down on my thigh, bunching up the fabric of my dress as he pulls it higher. I struggle against him, realising what he wants and not wanting that, not _here…_

“Royce!” I exclaim. “What are you…not here…. _my dress!”_ The idea of having to walk back into that party with a torn dress is unthinkable.

But Royce doesn’t stop, and before I know it he’s got the dress hiked up around my waist and I can feel the cool air of the fire escape on my thighs and ass.

“Royce, this is crazy…” But I realise the futility of trying to argue and I don’t fight him as he turns me around to face the wall and pulls my hips back, using his feet and his knees to push my legs apart before he tugs my thong to the side and drives his cock into me.

It hurts. I’m not ready, and I’m terrified that someone will walk in on us. And yet a moment later I’m both horrified and astounded to feel that my body is responding to Royce like it always does. As he thrusts I’m getting wetter and I instinctively brace my hands against the wall so that I can move back against him, making tiny mewling noises of pleasure, because damn but this feels good.

Royce notices the change, and I’m humiliated to hear the note of triumph in his ragged laugh. “Oh you like it, you want me, you slut…” And he fingers my clit with a rhythm he knows I can’t resist until I’m sobbing with the strength of the orgasm ripping through me and making me shake.

“Oh babe, oh, Rosalie….”

Royce is done, and he yanks up his pants and wraps me up in his arms, pulling me down onto his lap as he sits on the cold concrete fire stairs. “Oh babe, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry….you just make me so crazy jealous…”

I close my eyes, resting my face against his neck, careless of my make-up. I don’t even know what to think. My body is shivering with the fading pulses of my orgasm, and the pain is reawakening in my fingers, but I love Royce. Maybe I have been flirting all night without realising it, since I know it’s the way I mostly do relate to men; and even if I hadn’t really wanted him to do that to me the sex was so good when he did that I must have wanted it, at least a little bit…

“It’s okay,” I mumble, and he kisses me frantically, his lips moving across my face.

“I love you Rosalie, you know that, I want you….I hate anyone else who thinks they might be able to have you!”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Feeling slightly steadier I stand up and smooth my dress back into place, feeling the unpleasant wetness of my thong between my legs and hoping nothing will get on my dress before I can go to the bathroom and clean myself up. “I love you too.”

Royce gently takes my hand and kisses the reddened patches of skin where he bent my fingers back. “I’m sorry…you know I would never hurt you deliberately. I didn’t mean it, I was just so mad that you were…”

“It’s okay,” I interrupt him, smiling at him a little tentatively. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been flirting.” I ignore the little thought in my head that asks me what, exactly, I’m apologizing for, because I’m not even certain what I did to make Royce so angry.

Royce zips up his fly and tucks himself back in. “We’d better get back. The old man will kill me if he thinks I’ve snuck off to get it on with you.”

I nod anxiously and smooth my hair. “I need to go to the bathroom and check my make-up and…clean up.”

Royce bends down and presses his lips against mine, chastely and sweetly. “Promise me you’ll always stay with me,” he whispers fervently. His hands cup my face and his eyes gaze at me imploringly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Royce tenderly cradles my sore hand and leads me out of the fire stair well and back along the corridor, slouching against the wall to wait while I slip into the restroom. I clean myself up in the toilet and then the bathroom attendant offers me some cleansing wipes and mascara and I quickly redo my eye make-up. I don’t have my lipstick with me but my lips are reddened from kissing and against my pale skin they look fine. I pretend I can’t see the shadowy bruise just above my elbow where Royce gripped me so tightly as he dragged me out of the room.

“All ready?” Royce asks as I step out again. He smiles at me and takes my hand. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling me close as we walk back to the main reception room.

He stays close and attentive for the rest of the night as we eat dessert and the auction winners are announced. I see the tiara and diamond choker go to the same elderly woman who is already adorned with a thick rope of pearls, her age spotted hands nearly invisible under the glittering stones she has on her fingers. Royce’s parents pay twelve thousand dollars for a holiday at a chalet in Aspen, which even Royce applauds enthusiastically.

“What do you think?” he says to me teasingly. “You’ll come to Aspen with me…you can ski, right?”

I smile at him affectionately. “Probably not as well as you.” I know that Royce and his dad go skiing a lot, both in the US and overseas, and that Royce is considered to be highly skilled. “We used to go when my mom was well, she liked to ski. I like it too.”

“You’ll love Aspen,” Royce says confidently, leaning across and rubbing his nose against mine and laughing. “You can be my snowbunny…we’ll ski all day and then I’ll strip you naked and fuck you silly all night…sounds good, huh?”

“Royce!” But no one else is close enough to hear, and I’m laughing too as I rub noses with him and try and imagine it. Skiing and hot chocolate and blazing fires…it’s all going to work out.

 

Royce walks me from the car to my front door at the end of the night, his hand on my back protectively.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says softly, as I dig in my purse for my door key.

I can’t help smiling at him at he looks at me so earnestly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Royce encircles me in his arms, and kisses me with gentle, probing lips. “You really okay?” he whispers. “You’re not mad at me for…earlier? I just love you so much Rosalie, I can’t help the way I feel about you…”

“I know,” I mumble, my hands almost unconsciously stealing up and curling into his hair. Even as I do so, my fingers ache. Part of me knows he shouldn’t have done that, knows that it’s wrong, but I’m tired and the kissing is making me dizzy and he’s just so _sorry_ …

“Say it,” Royce says insistently, his breath hot on my face. I’m curved against him, and he tips my chin up. “Say that you love me Rosalie. Say it.”

“I love you,” I whisper obediently. His body feels hard and strong and so much bigger than mine, and the force of his personality feels as immovable as a mountain. “You’d better go,” I say finally, after another hot kiss leaves me tingling. “Your mom and dad are waiting.”

“Yeah, I know.” Royce kisses me again, and then stands up straight with a smile. “Okay Princess, sleep well.”

I grin back before I unlock the door and go inside, immediately resetting the alarm. Around me the house is silent, Dad and Jasper long since gone to bed. It’s very late.

I unstrap my shoes and slip them off, carrying them as I tiptoe up the stairs. I pause outside my mother’s room, my hand on the knob, but I don’t go in. I wish I could tell her about this, but the ache in my hand reminds me that there was more that happened to me tonight than just a society party.

_I don’t think you’d like it Mom, but you don’t know him like I do. He doesn’t mean it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- This kind of chapter is why this story is hard to write. Because I’ve just written a rape scene, and the victim involved doesn’t even see it for what it is. This episode was the sort of thing Rosalie was talking about in Wild Roses when Kari asked her if Royce had ever raped her before the last time- she might not have said “no” but she sure as hell wasn’t saying yes either. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t screaming and fighting him off, it doesn’t matter that he body responded and he made her come…she was not consenting and that makes it rape.  
> But in this chapter, Rosalie’s not ready to see Royce for what he is. She’s still in love with him, and she doesn’t want to admit that he’s hurt her and that he’s not the perfect boyfriend she wants him to be. She is also in a position at this fancy dinner where she doesn’t feel she can make a fuss. She makes excuses for him and she blames herself when things go wrong, and all the time she’s falling further into the whole situation and making it harder for her to see clearly and even get out.   
> All of this IS hard to write, because Rosalie is a character I’ve come to love and I hate making her so unhappy! It’s also probably kind of miserable to read, but I’m glad at least some people are giving it a go. Hopefully this story gives an element of greater depth to the Rosalie of Where the Wild Roses Grow, and how she became who she was then.   
> As always, thanks for reading and thanks for any comments or whatever too.


	15. Truth and Lies

Jasper wakes me in the morning, shaking my shoulder. “Rose, wake up. Royce is here…Rose! You want me to tell him to come back later?”

Blinking sleepily I half sit up. Jasper is standing beside my bed, looking vaguely rumpled and irritated, and over his shoulder I can see Royce lounging in the doorway, smiling at me.

“Hey babe.”

“Please, come on up,” Jasper mutters sarcastically.

I push my hair out of my face self-consciously, hoping I don’t have any sleep crud on my face. At least I’m wearing cute pyjamas. “It’s okay Jasper,” I say, flashing a grin at Royce. “Come on.”

Jasper rolls his eyes. “I’ll be in my room,” he says grumpily, and pushes roughly past Royce in the doorway.

Royce is about twice as broad as Jasper even though he’s not quite as tall, and he doesn’t move an inch as Jasper’s shoulder slams forcefully into his. Instead he ignores him, looking at me with a half smile.

“I didn’t think I’d find you in bed,” he says, not sounding unhappy with this state of affairs.

I glance over at the clock and see that it’s after eleven. “I slept in. I was tired after last night…what are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you.” Royce saunters across the room and sprawls on the bed beside me, making the mattress dip so that I roll against him. “Bit of a bonus finding you all nice and half naked in bed.” He wraps his arms around me, snuggling into my neck and kissing me, as his hand runs down my side and cups the curve of my ass.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth!” I protest.

“I don’t have to kiss your mouth,” Royce says, nuzzling into my breasts. It makes me laugh, and then it makes my breath hitch as he tongues my nipple.

“I like you like this,” he murmurs to me, sliding a hand inside the loose pyjama shorts. “No underwear…all warm and sleepy and wet. You been having some good dreams?”

“Mmm,” I sigh, shifting my legs so he can rub my clit in just the right way, soft and gentle at first, teasing until I open up more to him, wanting it harder and faster.

“You dream about me?” Royce’s breath is hot on my face as he whispers in my ear. “You dream about fucking me? I know you like it…you liked it last night, being fucked up against the wall, getting down and dirty in your fancy dress and whore heels…”

I never know what to do when Royce talks like this during sex. It’s not so much the words, because although it sometimes makes me feel a little uncomfortable it _is_ only words and it’s clear how much it turns him on. There’s a note of aggression in his voice that I don’t like though, especially given what happened last night. But I know that he loves me and he wants me to enjoy it, so when he yanks on my pyjama top until it exposes my breast and order me to open my legs wider I do what he says; and if the dirty talk makes me uncomfortable he’s knuckles deep inside me now and I’m not even listening because _oh that’s good that’s good I’m going to ooooohhhh…_ My orgasm hits hard, and I buck against Royce’s hand and close my eyes, holding back any noise because I know Jasper’s right nearby.

“It’s so easy to get you off,” Royce says, pushing my knees up and apart and rolling in between them, his jeans halfway down his legs. “I like it…you let a guy know when he’s got the spot.” He groans as he slides his cock into me.

“Shhh,” I say anxiously, even as all my pelvic muscles clench deliciously around him and my back arches involuntarily. “Jasper will hear you…”

“Who cares?” Royce grunts. “He knows I’m doing you.”

He pumps hard and fast- this is about him now- and I raise my arms and grip the head of the bed and hold on. I hope Jasper’s gone downstairs and isn’t hearing this, but a moment later I hear his door slam and the pounding beat of his music blasting through the house. Royce laughs and keeps going, coming with a loudly uninhibited groan and then lying panting on the bed beside me.

“I didn’t come over for that,” he says a few moments later, grinning at me before he leans over the edge of the bed and grabs his jacket from the floor. “Really, I came to give you this.” He holds out a velvet jewellery box to me, not the small, earring sized box of last night but a longer, flatter one.

“Why did you get me a present? You already gave me the earrings last night,” I say uncertainly.

Royce pushes the box towards me. “Please. I wanted to give you something. I love you Rosalie. I know I scared you last night and I just want you to understand…it’s only because I love you that I get so jealous and then so mad.”

Softening under his pleading gaze, I lean towards him and press my forehead against his. “You did scare me.”

 _You hurt me._ I don’t say it aloud.

“I know,” Royce’s eyes are dark and his voice quiet. “I am so, so sorry. I bought something to make it up to you, to show you how much I love you.” He nudges me with his shoulder, and I take the jeweller’s box from him and open it.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” It’s a delicate silver chain bracelet studded with pink stones.

“They’re pink sapphires,” Royce tells me, his big fingers surprisingly dexterous and he loops it around my wrist and fastens the clasp. “I know you like pink.”

Royce throws money around all the time, but coming on top of the diamond earrings last night I’m a little overwhelmed. I recognise the name of the jeweller discreetly stamped inside the bracelet’s box, and I know that this wasn’t cheap.

“You shouldn’t spend so much money on me,” I say softly.

Royce’s lower lip juts out. “I want to. Why, don’t you like it?”

“Oh no, I love it, it’s beautiful,” I say hastily. “It’s just…just a lot, you know?”

“You’re worth a lot.” Royce kisses me, and his touch is tender as he takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with exquisite care.

I rest my head on his shoulder. _It’s okay. He loves me, he says so…he doesn’t mean any of that other stuff._ On my wrist the silver and pink sapphires reflect the light, and my fingers ache despite how carefully Royce is holding me.

 

After Royce leaves I pack my history notebook and textbook into my satchel with my laptop, and walk over to Vera’s place. The air is cold, but it’s sunny and it feels nice to walk, especially through the park. The branches and vines are bare, but I know when spring comes it will be beautiful here and I think about spending sunny afternoons enjoying it with Vera and her baby.

Vera answers the door when I knock, wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt from cheer camp that strains across her belly. She looks tired, but she smiles at me gamely.

“Hey Rosalie, come on in.”

I follow her down the narrow hallway of her apartment to the big kitchen and living area at the back. “How are you?”

“Feeling like a whale,” Vera says grumpily, flopping on to the sofa.

I laugh and take the other end of the sofa. Most of the furniture she and Jim have picked up is second hand, but the sofa is big and comfortable. “Well, you’re looking great.”

“Yeah, whatever…” Vera says dismissively. “How did you enjoy the benefit dinner last night?”

“The dress looked amazing,” I say, “And my hairdresser did a good job on my hair. I might have her do it that way for prom.” I know I’m evading her question a little, but I don’t know what to say about last night. “Come on, let’s get this history project out of the way.”

Vera and I work together on the history presentation we’ve got due in next week, me doing most of the typing as Vera organises our hand scribbled notes. By their time we’ve finished my fingers are hurting, and I wonder anxiously if there’s actually some damage. As Vera turns on her printer and it begins churning out pages I sit back on the sofa and rub my fingers.

“Too much typing?” Vera asks lightly. “You should have got me to do some.”

“Oh no, my hand just…I hurt it last night.”

“What did you do?” Vera turns to look at me, and I wish I hadn’t said anything. She knows me too well and has never been afraid to call me out if she thinks I’m not being honest.

“Nothing really. Just a sprain.” I wave my hand airily, brushing away the problem.

“I like your bracelet. Is that new?” Vera catches the sparkle of the bracelet as I wave, and comes over to look more closely. “It’s really pretty! Where did you get it?”

“Royce gave it to me,” I say lightly.

“Wow, and it’s not even your birthday!” Vera shakes her head. “It’d be nice to have his money…how did you enjoy yourself last night, hanging out with the rich and famous?”

I shrug. “It was okay. I mean, it was pretty much Royce and I and a whole lot of old people. And you know Royce is kind of weird about his dad sometimes. But it was fun seeing all the dresses and the jewellery and there were some amazing hair…” I describe the evening to Vera, drawing quick sketches of some of the dresses I think she would have liked or that I had found ridiculous, grabbing hanks of hair and arranging them and then making both of us laugh about how ostentatious it had been.

“So it wasn’t all boring,” I say. “The people watching was fun, and the auction was interesting. I got to try on a tiara that someone bid twenty two thousand dollars on later.” Remembering what came after trying on the tiara I gently flex my fingers and say slowly, “Royce took me out of the party and into the stairwell for a little while.”

Vera laughs, and then claps her hands over her mouth. “Seriously? In a _stairwell_? Wasn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Against the wall,” I admit, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

Vera shakes her head. “I know I laughed, but geez Rosalie…that’s totally inappropriate. I mean, what if someone had _seen_ you?”

“No one did,” I say, a little defensively. “And that’s rich, coming from _you_ …how many places have you and Jim done it?!”

“That’s true,” Vera acknowledges. “But we’re not talking a high school party or that teacher’s bathroom on the third floor that no one ever uses…that benefit dinner was a huge deal for Royce’s dad, and he _must_ have noticed you and Royce were gone.” Vera shakes her head again. “You’ve got to get it under control Rosalie. You can’t just go and get it on every time you feel horny, you’ll end up in trouble.”

“What, like you?” I snap, and then relent as I see Vera’s lips tighten. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes you did,” Vera says flatly. “And look, you’re not wrong. I was an idiot. But even if you don’t get pregnant there are a lot of other things that can go wrong.”

I rise from the sofa and walk restlessly across the room. “I know, and I’m trying to…trying to be smart about things. But Royce is sometimes…oh, I don’t know!” I gaze out of the window, not looking at my friend. “You know what he’s like.”

“You don’t have to do _everything_ he wants,” Vera says.

“I don’t,” I say. Vera is staring at me with narrowed eyes, and suddenly I feel like I’m walking on treacherous ground. I turn around and lean back against the wall, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “What are you talking about?”

I watch her lips open and then close as she hesitates before she says slowly, “You _do_ always seem to do whatever he wants you too. You bend over backwards to excuse him for being an asshole and you just take any shit he hands out.”

My heart is pounding. “What are you trying to say? That you think my boyfriend is an asshole and I’m a doormat? Wow….way to be a friend.”

Vera bites her lip. “It’s _because_ I’m your friend that I’m saying something,” she says at last. “Royce can be a great guy but he can also be a jerk, and it’s like you just close your eyes to it instead of calling him out. I don’t like the way he is with you. He’s too possessive and he wants to control you and you let him do it.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” I say, but my voice trembles.

_He is too controlling sometimes, and he hurt me…but he loves me. He’s so sorry about last night, he just gets angry when I forget I’ve got a boyfriend and act like a flirt- last night was my fault and if I don’t do it again it won’t happen again. It’s only that he loves me and he wants me all to himself._

“I know what I see,” Vera says stubbornly. “And I don’t like it, Rosalie. I thought you’d get over your infatuation with him and start acting like yourself, but it’s been months now and it looks like things are getting worse.”

_He hurt me. It’s never been physical before._

“Shut up!” I say furiously. “You don’t know anything about what goes on between Royce and I, so I don’t give a shit what you think…”

“Rosalie.” Vera holds out her arms, palms up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t say any of this to hurt you. I worry about you, and worry about how far you’ll let him push you, that’s all.”

“I don’t need to listen to this,” I mutter, slamming my laptop closed and stuffing it into my tote. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“Please, just think about what I’ve said,” Vera begs, hauling herself off the sofa with a grunt. “Can you honestly say he doesn’t push you into doing things that you wouldn’t otherwise do? That he never talks down to you?”

“I said shut up!” I stand up and glare at her through a film of tears. “I don’t need this from you!” Without waiting for her to say anything else I snatch up my bag and storm out of the apartment.

But if I’m honest with myself…well, I can’t afford to be honest with myself. Because there’s more truth in Vera’s words than I want to admit.


	16. Skipping School

I can hear the roar of the engine before I see the Camaro cruise into the school parking lot. From the front seat of Royce’s BMW I watch Jasper narrowly miss scraping the side of it as he pulls into a space, and I wince. I want to run over and snatch the keys out of his hand before he does any damage.

I miss my Camaro.

But Royce likes to drive me to school, so most days I’m riding along in the luxury comfort of his car. Sometimes Jasper will ride with us, but despite how many months Royce and I have been together the two boys still aren’t that comfortable in each other’s company. I sigh.

Royce taps the wheel and throws a glance my way. “Come on Rosalie. You’re going to be gone all weekend with the other cheerleaders.”

“I know.” I fiddle with the strap of my duffle bag, packed with everything I’ll need for the cheerleaders’ weekend away. The bus is due to depart directly after school today and not return until late Sunday, and Royce isn’t that happy with the idea of me spending so much time without him. And with guy cheerleaders. “I’ll miss you, I really will, but I can’t just skip school today to hang out with you.”

Royce scowls, and then gives me an endearing smile. “You won’t miss anything- it’s only one day.” He runs a hand down my face. “You never skip, and they don’t call your parents until you’ve been out a couple of days. No one will know. We’ll just go and mess around at your place this morning and I’ll bring you back to school in time to get the bus this afternoon.”

He kisses me again, and my resistance melts. How can I reject him when he just wants to spend time with me? And he’s right, I never skip. One day won’t make any difference. And maybe we’ll come back at lunch and I’ll do my afternoon classes.

“Okay,” I say, feeling a flutter of excitement in my belly. “Let’s go.”

“Seriously?” Royce’s face splits into a grin. “All _right_!”

He peels out of the parking lot and speeds towards my house. I wish he’d slow down but he hates being told what to do so I just bite my tongue and cross my fingers that we get there safely.

I’m used to being in the house alone, but there’s something about being here when I’m supposed to be at school that makes the silence seem almost oppressive. For a moment I wish I’d stayed at school, but as Royce grabs me and kisses me passionately in the front hall I’m glad that I gave in. I do love him, I love what he does to me, and I’ll love spending these hours alone with him before taking off for the weekend.

I manage to get Royce to my room, despite his efforts at stripping off all my clothes on the way, and we fall onto my bed in a tangle of bodies, already kissing and touching. With no one else in the house and no risk of anyone walking in, Royce and I both feel less inhibited than usual and the sex is good. It’s really like he can’t get enough of me.

“You’re gorgeous,” Royce mutters, still touching my breasts even as we lie sprawled out on my bed, resting.

I smile at him lazily, stroking his solid chest. “Thank you…do you want a drink?”

“Yeah, that would be good.” Royce gives a jaw breaking yawn. “I’ve got to pee.”

He heads off to the bathroom, and I pull on the nearest item of clothing that will cover me, which happens to be Royce’s t-shirt and skip down the stairs. Now that I’m actually away from school and enjoying myself I feel less guilty, and much more pleasantly reckless and daring. I’ve got two bottles of Coke out of the fridge and am foraging in the pantry for something to eat when I hear the tell-tale beeping of the alarm. Someone’s about to enter the house

 _What the hell?_ My first instinct is to run back upstairs as fast as I can, but I can’t get across the front hall and to the stairs without running right past whoever is opening the door, and so I watch in growing horror as my the door swings open and my dad steps in.

_Oh my god, he’s going to kill me._

Not only am I home when I should be at school, but you only have to look at my messy hair and flushed face and Royce’s t-shirt barely covering my bare ass to know _exactly_ what I’ve been doing while I’m skipping school.

“Rosalie?” Dad looks astonished to see me. “What are you…shouldn’t you be at school?”

“What are you doing here?” I ask quickly.

“Carlisle and Esme are here this weekend…They drove from the airport in a rental car and I came home to let them in. Didn’t I tell you?”

Behind Dad the Cullens are standing in the door with their overnight bags, and I think I’m about to die of mortification. I take both the sodas in one hand and use the other hand to tug ineffectually at the bottom of the t-shirt, trying to make it look longer. “Oh…hi.”

Just when I think it can’t get worse, there’s a thudding noise and a naked Royce appears halfway down the staircase.

“…something to eat babe, yeah? Oh….shit.” Seeing dad and the Cullens Royce cups his hands over his groin and starts backing up the stairs. “Oh, um…I’ll just go and…um…get some pants on.”

My face is flaming. This has to be about the most embarrassing moment of my life. My eyes dart from Dad’s face, still gazing up the stairs after Royce and looking shocked, to Dr Cullen who is looking impassively off to the side. Mrs Cullen’s lips are pressed together and for a moment I think she’s completely disgusted, but then she catches my eye and I see the lines crinkling up at the corners of hers and I realise that she’s trying not to laugh.

“Well, I might just go upstairs,” I mumble, sidling past Dad.

“I think we had better have a chat about this, Rosalie,” Dad says, sounding unusually stern.

“Oh yeah, sure,” I mutter. “But maybe I could just…get some clothes on?”

It’s like Dad has only just realised that I’m wearing a t-shirt that is clearly not mine and I have nothing on underneath it, and his face turns scarlet. It seems I get my blushing gene from him.

“Of course, you should…get dressed. And your…friend…he’d better go.”

I walk half sideways up the stairs, desperately yanking the t-shirt down as far as I can in the hopes that I’m not giving everyone a gynaecologist’s view of my private parts, bolting for my room as soon as I’m out of sight.

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to die!” I throw myself on the bed and bury my face in my pillow. “That was horrible!”

“You should have said that your dad was coming home!” Royce slaps my bare backside. “Fucking hell Rosalie, we could have gone to my place! Hey, give me my shirt back too.” He’s buckling up his jeans.

“I didn’t know he’d be here!” I exclaim, sitting up and facing Royce. “Oh my god, why would I have brought you here if I thought he’d be back? He _never_ leaves the office during the day….well, he does about once a year when his friend Dr Cullen comes to town! Which just _happens_ to be today, something he totally forgot to mention to me!” I yank Royce’s t-shirt off and throw it to him.

Royce catches the shirt and slips it over his head, although as he pulls it down his body he looks at me, still sitting naked in the middle of the rumpled bed and smiles. Now almost fully dressed he pushes me back on the bed, grabbing one of my thighs and hooking my leg over his hip as he kisses me again.

“I want you,” he says, his voice low. “Even now, with them downstairs…you are so hot and all I want to do is fuck you again and again…” His kisses are making me dizzy. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too.” I wrap my arms around him and laugh as he lifts me up with him as he stands. I kiss him once more and then push out of his grasp and start dragging on clothes.

“What’s going on now?” Royce asks. “Do you want me to stay, or will it go better if you talk to your old man on your own?” He suddenly looks alarmed. “He’s not going to do something like call my mom or dad is he? Damn Rosalie, the old man will skin me alive if I give him any more trouble.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think he’ll call them. I’ll tell him it was my idea and my fault anyway. You’d better go back to school I guess.” I brush my hair, looking critically at my reflection in the mirror and then relaxing into a smile as Royce’s face appears over my shoulder.

“I’ll get going then,” Royce says, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck.

“I’ll walk you down.” I take Royce’s hand and the two of us walk down the stairs. When we reach the ground floor Dr and Mrs Cullen are in the living room, and Dad is just coming out of the kitchen with some steaming mugs of tea.

“Hey Mr Hale, how are you doing?” Royce says, trying to act normally.

Dad just shakes his head. “I think you should be going Royce.”

Royce shrugs and gives my hand a squeeze. “Are you gonna want a ride back to school later on?”

Flicking my eyes over to dad I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’ll manage somehow…I’ll see you after the weekend?”

Royce nods, and winks as he heads out the door. “Call me.”

I reluctantly follow my dad into the living room. He’s in one of the armchairs with a cup of coffee and the Cullens are seated on the sofa. I perch on the edge of the other armchair and with a sigh, face my dad.

Dad looks at me, scowling. “What were you thinking Rosalie? You’re supposed to be in school, not messing around at home with your boyfriend!”

I set my jaw stubbornly. “It was only one day.” I know I’m in the wrong and I really have no defence here, but my dad’s sudden show of parental concern has made my hackles go up.

Mrs Cullen stands up suddenly, smiling at dad. “Perhaps Carlisle and I will just go and unpack and freshen up,” she says sweetly. “Rosalie, it’s lovely to see you again.”

She smiles at me, and I give a weak smile back. I sometimes feel uncomfortable with Mrs Cullen. She’s known me all my life, and there’s something about the way she looks at me with her clear green eyes that make me think she’s one of the few people who see below the surface image I project. I don’t think I like it.

“Uh, sure,” Dad stammers. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

Mrs Cullen pats me on the shoulder as she walks past me out of the room. Dr Cullen gives my dad a wink and then grins at me. “Hi Rosalie.”

“Hi,” I mumble, sliding backwards so that I’m sitting in the armchair properly.

“So go on Rosalie,” Dad says. “Explain yourself.”

I shrug. “I can’t really. I know you’ll think I did the wrong thing- I skipped school today to hang out here with Royce. I’m sorry. I’m going away with the other cheerleaders this weekend, and I won’t see him for a few days so we thought we’d spend some time together. It’s not something I’ve ever done before.”

Dad is scowling. “School’s important Rose. If you want to get anywhere in life you need all the education you can get…”

“I know that!” I say. “Like I said, this isn’t something I do regularly! You can go online and sign into the parent portal at school and see all my grades and see for yourself that I’m doing well.”

“Well, that’s not the only issue here,” Dad mutters, and his face goes pink. “The fact is that you were here with a boy and…”

I groan and hide my face in my hands. “Please don’t, dad!”

“Well, you’re still only a kid and…”

“I’m seventeen!” I raise my head and glare at him in frustration. “That’s not exactly a baby. And I’ve been going out with Royce for months, which you just don’t know because you’re never here!”

“Look, I just want you to be safe,” Dad says in friendlier tone. I knew he’d back down if I brought up the fact that he’s never around. “I don’t like the idea, I don’t really want you being alone with someone in an empty house, but…well, you’re a big girl now. I know I’m not good at this, but if you want someone to talk to, or uh…medical advice about that kind of thing then you could go talk to Carlisle…”

“Oh god, Dad, NO!” I run my hands through my hair in agitation. “I do not need Dr Cullen….I have a gynaecologist! Believe me, it’s all taken care of!” I don’t bother to even respond to his wish that I not spend time in an empty house with Royce. If Dad doesn’t want me to do that, maybe he should just come home a bit more often so the house isn’t empty?

Dad looks mortified at the mention of a gynaecologist and I just shake my head. How does he get through life when even the mention of me being a woman sends him into a fit of embarrassment? He was married to my mother and she obviously had periods and got pregnant and gave birth to Jasper and I…didn’t he learn anything?

“Well, that’s good then.” he says finally.

“Great.” I jump to my feet and head out of the room, taking advantage of Dad’s momentary silence to bring the conversation to an abrupt end. I don’t understand the way I can resent my dad so fiercely for not taking an interest in me or Jasper and what’s going on in our lives, and yet as soon as he does step up and try and act like a parent it enrages me. I pause outside the door of my mother’s room, but the voices within remind me that the Cullens are there and I can’t go in. Feeling an odd mix of anger and tears welling up in me, I run upstairs to my room to be alone.


	17. Cheerleaders and Chances

I’m the last one on the bus in the end. I thought Dad would drive me but by the time he messed around and finally got to it I wished I’d caught a cab. However I know the weekend is going to be fun, and I try to shake off my irritation as I stow my duffle bag underneath the bus and take the seat Kacey has saved for me.

“Where were you?” she demands. “I thought you might miss it!”

“I skipped today,” I tell her. “Royce and I went back to my house…”

“Oh my god, you’re terrible!”

“My dad came home! He had his friends with him and they came in and I was in the kitchen wearing Royce’s t-shirt with nothing underneath, which was bad enough, but then Royce walks down the stairs completely buck naked!” My cheeks flame with remembered embarrassment, even as I laugh. “I’m lucky Dad let me come at all!”

Kacey is hysterical, and Lauren leans over from the seat in front to find out what’s happening, and soon I’m part of the giggling, gossiping group of girls. We all share candy we’ve bought and swap seats so much that eventually the bus driver yells at us to sit down and stay there. After the bus driver yells, I find myself in a seat beside Peyton and the two of us talk and watch Youtube clips on her phone until we reach the conference centre we’re staying at.

I feel so light and happy! I spend so much time with Royce that I’ve almost forgotten how much I have always loved my girl friendships. I know about the bitchiness and gossiping that’s always inherent in it, and I’ve been part of it more often than I’d comfortably admit, but there is also so much laughter and love and support here too.

I miss Vera and Mina though, especially when we all go back our rooms and I remember how it was last year. Vera, Mina, Kacey and I had shared and it had been so fun talking and giggling late into the night.

But I’m determined to enjoy this year anyway, and I can’t help but grin when Peyton announced room assignments and I’m in with her and two other senior cheerleaders, Evie and Sera. The four of us change into pyjamas and then sit around on the floor painting out nails and talking. Despite the strict no-alcohol rule Peyton has a bottle of vodka and the four of us splash liberal amounts into our glasses of orange juice.

My phone rings when I’m just painting my last fingernail, but before I can answer it Peyton grabs it. “Oh, it’s Royce…hi baby,” she coos to him. “No, sorry, Rosalie can’t answer her phone, she’s too busy with the pool boy…ha ha ha!”

I roll my eyes at her and grab the phone. “Hi…and I _wasn’t_ out with any pool boy!”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Royce says comfortably on the other end. “I just wanted to see how you were going, and ask how things went with your dad after I left?”

I feel self-conscious talking to him in front of the other girls, and I turn away from them, trying not to smudge my nails as I hold the phone. “I’m good. Having fun. Dad gave me a bit of a lecture and was very disappointed in me and all that, but it was fine in the end. He won’t call your parents.”

“Cool,” Royce sounds relieved. “Good…I miss you though. It’s gonna be weird not having you around this weekend.” He laughs. “I’m sitting here with my dick hard thinking of you, and you’re not here to do something about it!”

I giggle. “You’ll have to take care of yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“No fun…but I’ll be back Sunday night,” I say.

“Yeah. Ah well, there’s always internet porn,” Royce says cheerfully. “Or those photos I took of you at the lake.”

“Royce!”  

“I’m just joking…sort of. I’ll let you get back to your friends. I just wanted to talk to you, see what you were doing…I love you babe.”

“I love you too.” I turn off the phone and look back at the girls, who all smirking at me. “What?”

“You’re adorable,” Peyton says with a laugh. “You spent all morning doing each other, and he still has to call you to check up on you?”

“Short leash,” Evie giggles.

I shrug. “He wanted to say hi. That’s all.”

“Oh, that’s _fine_!” Peyton says emphatically. “We’re not judging you! It’s just funny, that’s all, that Royce has settled down with you like this….we would never have thought it would happen, would we girls?”

Evie and Sara shake their heads. “No way,” Sera says. “Royce was a manwhore since freshman year. Has he told you all of his hook ups?”

Feeling slightly uneasy with the conversation, I shake my head. “I know there was some…it’s not something we really talk about, you know?”

“Some?” Evie snorts. “Honey, it would be easier to make a list of the girls he _hasn’t_ fooled around with.”

I stare at her. “What…you?”

“Last year.” Evie considers her fingernails. “And Sera in tenth grade. And Peyton…”

“Just now and then,” Peyton says to me consolingly. “And never since he started seeing you.” Seeing my face, she laughs and hugs me. “Seriously Rosalie, I swear I haven’t touched him since.”

I smile carelessly, although my heart is thumping. “I don’t think he’d cheat on me.”

“I don’t think so either,” Peyton says, looking faintly surprised. “I’ve known him for years- our families are friends- and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s really obsessed with you.”

Before she can say more, there’s a quick rap at the door and it opens, our coach Michelle leaning her head in.

“How’s it going in here girls?” She sniffs the air suspiciously. “You’re not drinking are you?”

“Just OJ!” Peyton says brightly, holding up her glass. The vodka bottle has been long since hidden under the bed. “We’re being good girls, Michelle, don’t worry!”

Michelle grins. “I knew you would be! Don’t stay up too late, breakfast is at 7.30 and we’ve got a full day of activities planned so you’ll need a bit of sleep. Good night!”

We chorus out goodnights and then, as the other girls start talking about the latest season of The Bachelor, I go back to my toes and finish painting them, thinking about what Peyton had said about Royce.

 _He’s obsessed with you._ That’s what my friends had said too…is there really something about the way Royce and I are together that is so different to other people? And is that really such a bad thing?  

* * *

 

The bus gets back from our cheerleaders’ weekend away late Sunday afternoon. Peyton’s mom is there at school to pick her up, and she’s happy to give me and Evie a ride too, so it’s not long before I’m climbing the stairs at home, dragging my duffel bag behind me.

Jasper and Ben are playing x-box, so I say hi and chat briefly before I throw my bag in to my room and go to the shower. My muscles are slightly sore from the activities this morning and I feel grimy from sitting on a bus for three hours, so the hot water feels good as I soap myself all over and wash and condition my hair.

I take my time drying my hair and combing it out. I’m tired, and I’m looking forward to ordering some dinner and going to bed. I’m debating between microwaving some mac and cheese or ordering in some Italian, when there’s a loud knock on the door.

“Rosalie?” It’s Jasper, and he’s sounding pretty pissed off.

“You can come in,” I say, wrapping the towel more securely around me and tucking the corner in to hold it.

Jasper slips in and shut the door behind it, looking at me balefully. “Royce is here.”

“Really?” I’m surprised. I haven’t even called him to say I’m home.

“Yes.” Jasper rolls his eyes. “Can’t you at least get him to call first or something? I’m starting to feel like your butler.”

I giggle. “Oh, boo hoo…you’re not doing anything else more important.”

“Well, he’s here, and since neither he nor I really enjoy each other’s company, maybe you could come out and entertain,” Jasper says acidly.

“Just a second and I’ll be out.”

Jasper leaves as I apply some mascara and eyeliner, and then shove everything back into the vanity drawers before I walk out of the bathroom to where all three boys are sitting on the sofa. Jasper ignores me, but Ben looks up at me in my towel and blushes. I feel bad for unintentionally embarrassing him, but then I see the scowl on Royce’s face as he looks from me to Ben and back again and unease twists in my belly. Shit. He’s not going to be pleased with me.

Sure enough, Royce follows me into my room and slams the door, leaning heavily against it as I busy myself setting my iphone in the dock and starting the music playing. I turn the volume up a couple of notches, hoping that it will mean Jasper and Ben won’t overhear anything.

“You shouldn’t walk around like that in front of other guys,” Royce says quietly.

I turn and face him, ineffectually tugging the bottom of the towel lower. “I don’t, usually…I mean usually it’s just Jasper and…”

“Shut up.” Royce says, and I fall quiet. “I don’t need your excuses.”

“I just forgot my robe, and I didn’t know you would be here,” I say, but I realise immediately that that is about the very worst thing I could have said, as Royce’s face turns ugly with his anger and he’s in front of me in a second, towering over me as I press back against my desk.

“So what? That’s what you do when I’m not around? Act like a cock teasing whore?” he snarls.

“No, I don’t! You know I wouldn’t do anything like that to you. Please Royce, don’t be mad…it was just Ben, he’s known me forever and I forgot that he was here. Please…you’re the only one I want.” I tentatively put my hands on his chest and stroke down. “I love you.”

For a minute neither of us move, and then Royce sighs and I feel him relax under my hands. He dips his head low and kisses me gently.

“I missed you,” he says huskily.

“How did you know I was home?”

Royce laughs and plays with the lower edge of the towel, his fingers tickling my thighs deliciously. “I was at McDonalds with a bunch of guys and we saw the bus,” he admits. “I just didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to see you.” He kisses me again more intensely, his hands inching up under the towel.

“I missed you too,” I sigh, and it’s true, I did miss him. For all this relationship is fraught with tension sometimes, I love him and I know he loves me. The fact that he’s here, not even waiting for me to call him, proves to me that whatever he’s done in the past he’s mine now. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Me too.” Royce lifts me up, laughing as the towel slips off and he bears me backwards onto the bed and leans over me with a mischievous grin. “And I definitely missed this,” he adds, grabbing my wrists and holding my arms above my head, and then sucking hard enough at my neck that I’m pretty sure there’ll be a mark there tomorrow.

I don’t mind too much. The girls will give me hell at school tomorrow, but I’m just happy that Royce is happy. And as his mouth lowers to my breasts and his free hand strokes down across my belly and thighs, brushing tantalisingly across my pubic area, I’m not thinking about anything but the here and now.

 I like to touch too, and I tug lightly against the restraining hand around my wrists, but Royce just smirks at me. He’s much stronger than me, and there’s nothing I can do as he holds my wrists pinned to the bed and uses his other hand to undress himself.

“Mine,” he whispers, looming over me, his breath warm. “Mine to do what I want with.” He grips my thigh with his free hand and pushes my legs open, settling himself in between them. “All mine.”

“Mmmm yes…oh wait, no,” I say, suddenly remembering. I fruitlessly try to move my arms and close my legs, but Royce is holding me immobile. “No, wait.”

He groans irritably, but doesn’t move. “What? You’ve got the music on, they’re not going to hear!”

“No, it’s not that. I forgot to take my birth control with me when I went away, so I haven’t taken it for a few days. It’s not safe.”

“Well that was fucking stupid of you.”

The words sting. “I know, but you can just use a condom this time. I don’t have any, but Jasper…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m not asking your brother for a rubber!” Royce is still between my legs, and I feel the head of his cock beginning to separate my labia. “You know I hate them.”

“I know, but it’s….aaahhh.” He’s pushing inside me, slowly and inexorably.

“Don’t worry about it,” Royce mumbles into my mouth as he kisses me. “It’ll be fine, I’ll pull out…come on babe, I know you missed me.”

He’s buried himself deep inside me now, and he releases my wrists so he can grab my thighs and push them further back. I gasp at the feeling of fullness so deep inside, and then Royce trails his fingers down my thigh and teases my clit until I moan.

“That’s right,” Royce mutters, rocking faster against me, his fingers leaving my clit to grasp my breast. “Like that.”

“I can’t,” I say dazedly. “We can’t… _ooohhh_ …promise you’ll pull out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Royce grunts, pulling me forward so that he can mouth at my breasts. “Just fuck me, babe, come on…”

So I do, focussing on nothing but the growing feelings of pleasure centred between my legs until I’m hit with the white hot intensity of orgasm. I gasp and whimper, my thighs quivering as I wrap them around Royce and he drives into me with fast, powerful strokes. When he comes he’s still deep inside me, and even though I feel the pulse as he ejaculates and know that he hasn’t pulled out like he said he would, I don’t say a word.


	18. Birth Day

Royce leaves to play golf with his father, and I settle down on my bed to do some studying. The SATs are coming up, and I really want to do well. For a moment I imagine myself a student at NYU, meeting up with Royce between classes, living in the dorms, spending my days studying and my nights partying and then I sigh and get to work. I think it sounds like it would be so much fun, but nothing is going to happen if I don’t crack the books.

The studying isn’t that bad. I’m smart enough, and my logical, analytical brain has always done well on standardised tests. I’ve just checked a practice test and am calculating my score when my phone rings. It’s Vera.

“Hello?” I say, a little cautiously. We’ve barely spoken since our argument and although I miss her I’m not sure how to move on as friends knowing what she thinks of the other relationship in my life.

“Rose?” Vera’s voice is quavering. “I really need some help…are you busy?”

“What do you need me to do?” I say. Whatever she thinks of Royce, or of me for being with him doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that she’s my best friend and she’s calling me for help.

“Can you come over?” Vera’s voice is tiny. “Jim’s working, and I think the baby’s coming.”

“What? I shriek. “Vee…oh my god! Do you want me to call an ambulance? How can you just be talking to me on the phone?! Shouldn’t you be….I don’t know, boiling water or finding towels or something? Going to a hospital?”

“Rosalie, no!” Vera laughs. “It’s not an emergency! The contractions are pretty far apart and the midwife says I’ve probably got a few hours to go. It’s only that Jim’s on a job and he needs to stay at work as long as possible, and I’m actually kind of scared…” Her voice trails away.

“It’s okay Vee,” I say comfortingly, at the same time as I find some shoes and step into them. “I can come over and keep you company for as long as you want me. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No, but please hurry.” Her voice sounds strained now, and I hastily dig through the pile of books and things on my desk to find my keys.

“I’m on my way.”

I have to walk, since Jasper’s taken the car, but I jog and it’s not too long before I’m knocking on Vera’s apartment door. I don’t know what I expect to find when I let myself in- Vera screaming or floods of amniotic fluid or blood or _something_ – but in fact it’s all very calm. Vera is in the living area, sitting on an inflatable exercise ball and watching ANTM. When she sees me in the doorway she hauls herself to her feet and lumbers over to me, pulling me against her in a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming.”

“As if I’d do anything else.” I hold her hands and look down at the enormous beach ball of a belly between us. “Whoa…look at that!” She’s bigger than she was last time I saw her, and as I’m looking her whole belly ripples under the tshirt.

“Yeah, I know,” Vera says wryly, going back to her fit ball and sitting on it with a groan. “I’m huge. And I’m so tired of being pregnant that I don’t even care about what labour is like now, I just want this thing OUT of me!”

“So what’s happening?” I say, sitting down in the armchair. “You seem okay.”

“I am okay.” Vera looks a little sheepish. “The contractions are coming every seven or ten minutes, and they’re not that bad. The midwife said it could go on like this for ages, days even. So Jim can’t just leave work and sit at home with me. I know that and it’s fine, but when the contractions starting hurting a bit I just panicked and called you because…well, I’m kind of scared. I don’t want to be by myself.”

“Aww, Vee…” I wrap my arms around her, from behind this time so I can get close to her without the giant baby bump in the way, and give her a hug. “I’m glad you called me. I love you, and you’re going to be fine.”

Vera grips my hand and holds very still for a moment, making a low growling noise. “Seven minutes,” she mutters, looking at the clock on the wall. She then turns to me and bites her lip before she says in a rush, “I’m sorry I said what I did about you and Royce. Really. But I love you too Rose, we’ve been best friends for so long, and I don’t want to see you get hurt. That’s all.”

I return the pressure on her hand. “It doesn’t matter,” I say softly. “This thing with Royce is complicated, but it’s okay. I’m dealing with it.”

“Just be careful,” Vera says, releasing my hand and rocking on her ball. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, would you get me one of the bottles of Gatorade out of the fridge?”

I didn’t know that having a baby could be so slow. In books and movies it always seems so dramatic, but this isn’t like that at all. Vera and I spend a couple of hours watching all her recorded episodes of ANTM and laughing, while she rides out a contraction every seven or so minutes. I note the times down for her on a piece of notebook paper and encourage her to keep drinking water, but apart from that it’s really just like it always is hanging out with my friend and I have fun.

Vera rises laboriously to her feet when we finish the most recent episode. “Let’s go for a walk,” she says, a little anxiously. “The pain is getting a little bit stronger, and I want to kick this thing into gear. They say walking can get things moving.”

“Sure,” I say, pulling on my hoodie.

“Um…can you tie my sneakers?” Vera asks apologetically. “I can’t reach my feet.”

I laugh as I knot the laces in her Nikes. “God Vee…this scares me, I’ve got to say.”

“It scares me too!” she says fervently, as she lumbers along the hall and out the front door. “I can’t believe I’m going to have a baby.”

I hang back and let Vera set the pace. It’s cold outside and I bury my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. Vera’s only wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt, but she doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all.

We walk for an hour, and it does seem to help get Vera’s labour going, because by the time we reach her home again the contractions are five minutes apart and strong. Vera doesn’t want to talk so much, and she’s started making low groaning noises when the pains come.

“Do you think you should call Jim?” I ask as I help her rest back on her exercise ball. “Or the hospital?” I’m terrified that Vera’s going to give birth and I’m going to have to deliver a baby.

“I’ll call Jim.” Vera’s face is pale, and then another contraction comes and she wraps her arms around her belly and leans forward with a cry. When she raises her face there are tears in her eyes, and I impulsively hug her.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say. “Really, you’re doing such a good job…it’ll all be over soon and then you’ll have your baby.”

“I know, I know, but…..” Vera shakes her head and reaches for her phone to call Jim.

“He’ll be about half an hour,” she reports after she speaks to him briefly, already sounding a little calmer. “I’ve had my bag packed for days, so we’re all good to go as soon as he….ooooh!” Her voice rises to a scream and the next thing I know the crotch and legs of her sweatpants are suddenly much darker as the water soaks through.

“Oh shit,” Vera says blankly. “I think my water just broke.”

“Umm, I think so,” I say with a slightly hysterical giggle, looking at the spreading water marks on her pants and the liquid dripping off the fit ball and pooling on the floor. “Yikes!”

I help Vera get changed, peeling the soaked sweats and panties down her legs and then wiping her skin dry, amazed at the sight of her swollen belly with its tracery of blue veins. I can see the vague shape of the baby, and as Vera grabs the sink and moans through another contraction I’m shocked to see the way the shape of her belly changes through it.

“Let’s go back to the living room,” I say quietly, when Vera is wearing clean pants and a fresh t-shirt. We make it halfway down the hallway when she moans again and grabs my shoulders, learning forward through the contractions with her face buried in my shoulder. I’m equal parts terrified and fascinated by what’s going on as I grip her shoulders and murmur reassurances into her ear.

That’s how we get through the next half hour in the end. I brace myself against the wall so Vera won’t just pull me right over, and she paces around the room and comes back to hang off me every time a contraction comes. That’s what we’re doing when Jim comes hurrying in, his face lighting up when he sees Vera.

“Wow, it looks like this is really it!” he exclaims. He beams at me over Vera’s bent back. “Thanks for being here Rosalie.”

“Anytime…oof,” I grunt, as the heavy weight of my pregnant friend hangs off my neck. “But I’m glad you’re here to take over,” I add with a laugh as Vera stands up and smiles at me wanly.

“I love you Rosalie.”

“I love you too.” This time I hug her. “You should get to the hospital, they’re only four minutes apart now and you look like you’re really hurting.”

Vera nods, and as Jim hears my words he hurries off to the bedroom and returns with a duffel bag. “Does this have everything we need?”

Vera nods, and heads for the door, slipping into a pair of flip flops. Jim carries the duffel bag and a camera bag and I walk beside Vera and help her down the front steps.

“You’re going to be fine,” I say to her as confidently as I can, while Jim throws the bags in the car and spreads a towel out on the front passenger seat. “You’re going to be a great mommy.”

“Thanks,” Vera says hoarsely, “I’m so glad you came over….uhhhhh.” Her face contorts as she’s gripped by another contraction, and Jim waits patiently until it passes before he helps her into the car.

I wave goodbye, and then walk home, my mind whirling. It seems crazy to think that the friend I’ve had since first grade is going to be a mommy. Vera and I have grown up together, seen each other through so many milestones and moments, and now this. As much as I’m happy for my friend, I know this will change everything and I can’t help but wonder how.

_When did we get so grown up?_

I expect that I’ll get word from Vera within an hour or two, but it’s not until I wake the next morning that there’s a message on my phone. A photo of a wrinkled newborn with surprisingly thick, dark hair sticking up wildly on their head and a message- _Henry James Hamilton Lee, born 2.17am, 7lb7oz. He’s beautiful. Thanks for everything Rose, come see us soon._

* * *

 

Royce agrees to take me to the hospital after school to see Vera and the new baby. We stop by a baby boutique first, and I laugh at Royce looking so hulking and awkward amongst the pastel rainbow of tiny clothes and toys. He laughs and while I choose a rainbow striped giraffe present for the baby he finds a ‘baby’s first football’ and digs out his wallet.

At the hospital I have to take several deep breaths before we go in. Royce notices my hesitation and gently takes my hand.

“You okay?”

I nod and say tightly, “My mom had all her treatments here. I don’t exactly have a lot of good memories of the place.”

Royce squeezes my hand. “Let’s go see the baby. That will take your mind off it.”

We make our way through the maze of corridors to the maternity wing, and Royce is right. It does take my mind off it. As much as the oncology department tried to make itself bright and cheerful, the air of sickness and fear hung over it inescapably but maternity is nothing like that. It’s almost noisy with all the visitors bringing presents and balloons and flowers, and the sound of brand new babies crying.

Vera’s room is at the end of the hall, and I knock hesitantly and peer around the corner. “Vera?”

“Rosalie!” She’s sitting cross legged on her bed, wearing pyjama pants and a t-shirt and beaming at me. I’m kind of surprised that she still looks pregnant. “Come in!”

I hug her tightly. “Are you okay? How did it go in the end? It took so long…I thought I’d be getting a message from you in like an hour or something but it wasn’t until the next day!”

“Tell me about it!” Vera grimaces. “Twelve hours, which they say is average for a first timer. No epidural though, go me! And I’m pretty good…a little tear but nothing serious.” She glances apologetically at Royce who is looking somewhat horrified. “Sorry, but that’s the reality of having babies I guess!”

I hug her again. “I’m so happy for you! I was really worried…I’m glad you’re both safe.” I look around the room and see the clear plastic bassinet with the blanket wrapped bundle by the window. “And this is him?”

Vera’s whole face changes as she slides a little stiffly off the bed and goes over to her baby, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “We’re just giving him some sun,” she says. “He’s a little bit jaundiced and they say it will help.” She picks him up and holds him out to me. “Here you go, auntie Rosalie, it’s baby Henry.”

“Oh…” The baby is adorable, with his little pursed mouth and button nose. One of his hands has worked its way free of the wrapping and is curled up in a little fist by his cheek. “Vee…he’s perfect.”

“Hold him,” she urges, and slightly hesitantly I take him in my arms.

“Is this right?” I say anxiously. “I don’t want to break him.” I don’t know anything about babies.

“It’s fine,” Vera says, adjusting him slightly. “Just relax- your arm is as stiff as a board.”

I relax, letting the natural curve of my arm curl around the baby. He fits so perfectly, and I bend my head and breathe in, inhaling the scent of fresh new baby that rises from his head.

“You even smell babies?” Royce jokes, coming over and peering down at the baby. “How’s Jim taking it?”

Vera laughs. “He’s a mess. His own little boy…god, he just couldn’t stop bawling, he was so happy. He’s just gone home for a while to have a shower and bring me back some stuff.”

I’m not really listening. This baby…there is something so perfectly pure and innocent about his little face. Something so _good_ , that makes me believe in the goodness of the world around us. I breathe in the smell of his head and plant a tiny kiss on his impossibly soft hair and make a wish for his innocence to last as long as possible.


	19. Consequences

I know before I take the test. When the placebo week of my pill packet arrives and my period doesn’t come with it I become aware of a growing feeling of difference deep within me. Subtle, indistinct, but unmistakeable all the same. The taste of metal in my mouth, an unusually heavy weariness, breasts that feel warmer and more tender…I know what it means.

But I take the test anyway. I buy it from the same drugstore Vera and I went to so many months ago, but this time it’s just me and the bored woman behind the counter barely even looks at me as she rings it up. I go home and lock myself in the bathroom and pee on the little wand, and sit on the tile with my knees drawn up to my chest for the longest two minutes of my life.

_Pregnant._   


I bought a digital test and so there’s no mistake. The word nearly glows, and I hurl the little plastic stick into the trash viciously. Almost immediately I snatch it out again and hold it in my hands, staring at it.

A _baby_. A small, cuddly bundle of neediness that will change my life. I’ll be like Vera, juggling a baby and school, having to give up cheerleading and stop hanging out with my friends and let go of all my current plans for college. Let go of all my current plans for the rest of my life.

_I don’t want to do that._

I wind my fingers through my hair, tugging on it absently as I think about Vera. I think of the way she and Jim live in their tiny apartment, and they juggle the childcare and Vera at school and Jim’s work and never having enough money.

_But it wouldn’t be like that for me. Royce has plenty of money…_

My heart starts pounding as the terror rises up. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to think of him, because this baby isn’t just mine. It’s Royce’s, and he will hate this. He will accuse me of doing this on purpose, of trying to trap him into something, of doing this because I’m seeking to control him, and the thought of his rage when I tell him this has me cowering.

_I don’t have to tell him. Not if I act fast. He never has to find out._

I wrap all evidence of the test up in the paper drugstore bag and toss it in the trash and almost run back to my room. Jasper isn’t home yet, but I close my door anyway and pick up my phone with shaking hands. I have to look up the number, but then I close my eyes as I listen to it ring, barely breathing.

“Wood Street Women’s Health.”

The female voice on the other end of the phone is professional and calm, but I can’t bring myself to say anything and the silence stretches out until she breaks it with a gentle question. “Do you need some help, honey?”

I exhale. “I need an appointment. For a….for an abortion.”

“Okay, I’m going to need a few details and then I’ll talk to you about the process. Just take a deep breath and calm down first honey…we’re going to be able to help you.” Her voice is almost motherly, and I know I’m not the first terrified girl she’s dealt with in this manner.

I give her my name and phone number and age. I tell her I do have insurance but I don’t know if it covers this or if I can use it without my dad finding out. I say I have money anyway, and I hope I have enough that’s easily accessible to pay for it.

“How far along are you?” she asks.

“Not very,” I answer quietly. “I only just found out…it’s only between four and five weeks.”

“Well that’s good. A termination is easier when carried out earlier, and you’ve got some time to make a choice.”

It seems surreal to hear her speak so matter-of-factly about abortion. “I can’t have this baby. I don’t need time to make a choice.”

“Well, that’s up to you. I can fit you in next Thursday, if that works for you?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” I’ll have to skip school again, but I don’t care.

“Great. Now, on the day you’ll see a doctor first, who will carry out a physical exam and do an ultrasound. The ultrasound will be done trans-vaginally, which might be new to you, but it’s not painful and not something that should frighten you, okay? I’m just telling you this so know what to expect. After the doctor you’ll have an appointment with a counsellor who can talk through your decision with you if you want that, and give you some information on what to expect after, how long before you can resume sexual activity, birth control options you might be interested in. Anything you need to talk about. After those two appointments you’ll be prepped for the procedure, have it done and then spend a little time in the recovery room before you’re released to go home. Any questions?”

I make an inarticulate noise which she takes to mean no.

“Okay. Eat lightly in the morning before you come in. You’ll be given a sedative and some local anaesthetic, but many women find that their stomachs can be a little upset. There will be some waiting in between appointments, so we recommend bringing in something to read, some homework or something… Oh, and you’ll need someone to drive you home.”

“I don’t have anyone,” I say tightly. “I’ll take a cab…is that okay?”

“Will you have someone at home then, if you need them?” The woman’s voice is gentle.

“I guess my brother will be here,” I say slowly. By the time I’m done with the clinic Jasper will be home from school. I don’t want him to know, but I can feel a little bit of the tension ease at just the thought of him. “Yes, he’ll be able to…well, help I guess, if I need it.”

“You shouldn’t need anything,” the woman says. “You might feel a little tired and crampy afterwards, but if you go home and have a nap you’ll be fine.”

“Great,” I say hollowly.

“Well Rosalie, that seems sorted. We’ll see you next Thursday.”

I hang up the call and then lie down on the bed, clutching the phone and staring at the ceiling until I can’t see through the hot tears welling up in my eyes. Still holding the phone, curled around my own belly, I bury my face in the pillows and let the tears fall.

_What am I doing?_

* * *

 

As I turn the key and the noise of the Camaro in the school parking lot cuts out, I reach out and touch Jasper’s arm. “Wait.”

His hand on the door handle, Jasper pauses and turns his head to look at me. “What’s up?”

“I’m not going to school today,” I say, sliding out the key and twisting the keychain in my fingers. “I’ve got some stuff to do, so you can drive the Camaro home.” I hold out the keys.

Jasper releases his grip on the door and turns fully so that he’s facing me, his eyes searching my face, although he doesn’t reach out for the keys. “What stuff?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jasper’s hand wraps around mine as he says gently, “Please Rose. What’s wrong? Do you need me to help?”

I squeeze his hand, wishing I could talk to him. Jasper has always been my closest confidant, always known everything, but now there are so many things I can’t share with him.

“I’m okay,” I say hoarsely. “I just have to do this today. So can you cover for me at school if anyone asks? Tell them I’m sick. If Royce asks you, tell him I’m sick at home.”

Jasper hesitates for a long time. “Okay,” he says at last. “But you’re kind of freaking me out Rose…are you sure I can’t help you?”

I want so badly to say yes! I wish I could take Jasper, who has always been my emotional touchstone, with me on this fool’s errand. But I can’t, and I smile at him as reassuringly as I can. “It’s fine, really it is. I’ll see you at home after school…I’ll be home by dinnertime at the latest, or I’ll call.”

The clinic is only a few blocks north of school, and my brisk walking pace brings me there quickly. I slow down a little as I approach though, because the door is obscured behind a small group of people with their signs and their pamphlets. They call out to the people entering the clinic, waving signs and papers at them that contain pictures of babies, and bloody half formed foetuses that make me feel sick.

Even slowly though, my steps have bought me close enough that they notice me, and then I’m the one being buried under a barrage of words- pleas not to kill my baby, begging me to think about what I’m doing, offering me all kinds of help.

It makes me angry though, that they think they have any say it in, that my body and this thing that has taken root in it is any of their business. I push past, not caring who I bump against, and finally reach the plain, frosted glass door and make it inside.

“Rosalie? Are you okay?” A woman, with a clipped English accent, approaches me with a quiet smile. “I’m sorry about the protesters- we usually have escorts to assist the patients in getting through but they’re not starting until later today.”

“I’m fine,” I say flatly. I focus on her nametag, which says ‘Claire’ and take a deep breath. My stomach is heaving, but whether it’s nerves or the pregnancy itself I don’t know. “I just want to get this over with.”

“Okay then, let’s get started.”

Claire gives me a clipboard with several forms attached, and a pen to fill them out with. I do so, careless of my handwriting as I sneak glances at the other patients filling out these forms. There are only two others beside me, so far. One of them is a girl who looks like she’s probably in high school too, sitting beside a woman I guess is her mother and looking surly. The other one is older, I’d guess in her twenties and, as I watch her, the man beside her leans over and kisses her hair and she smiles at him. I turn away.

More people come into the clinic as I finish my forms and sit back down waiting. I know that some of them are here for abortions too, while others are here for regular gynaecology appointments. Just looking around I can’t tell which is which.

My first appointment is with a doctor, an older man who looks like he’s seen it all before. He asks me a few questions about my menstrual cycle and when I conceived, and tells me that the due date is early December. For a moment I imagine a Christmas tree with a white ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornament hanging beside the pink and blue ones that Jasper and I were given so many years ago.

_Stop it, Rosalie._

The doctor weighs me and takes my blood pressure, and commends me on my general health. Then I’m instructed to remove my jeans and climb up on the table for an ultrasound, which I gingerly do. At least the office is warm and he tells me to keep my socks on, which is a little comforting as I arrange myself with my feet up and legs apart. The sight of the ultrasound wand he puts a condom on and lubes up next nearly sends me running from the room, but he’s gentle as he manoeuvres his hands under the sheet and it’s nothing more than cold and a little uncomfortable as it probes my insides.

The doctor’s eyes are watching a screen as the ultrasound probe pushes deeper inside me. “There we go,” he murmurs, talking more to himself than to me, tapping a couple of keys on his machine.

“What?” I say, more to take my mind off the uncomfortable poking I can feel on my ovaries.

“Normal singleton pregnancy, six weeks and two days gestation,” he tells me absently. “Everything looks fine to go ahead this afternoon.”

“Can I see?” I ask abruptly.

The doctor pauses. “If you want to,” he says carefully. “Most of our patients prefer not to, but you’re certainly welcome to look.”

I nod silently. Part of me is screaming not to do this, to just go ahead with my plan and live my life the way I’ve always intended. But there’s another part of me that won’t shut up that is telling me it’s a baby and I haven’t even considered any other options but this.

The doctor swings the screen around to face me, and then there’s a further prodding and moving low in my pelvis as he moves the ultrasound wand into place again. Amongst all the grey graininess of the screen a black void swims into view, and then the doctor moves the wand again and I see the…I see it.

It doesn’t look like a baby and I’m relieved. It looks like a jellybean, like nothing much at all, but there’s a queer fluttering in the centre of the bean and I frown at it. “Why is it fluttering like that? Is that what’s it supposed to look like?”

The doctor smiles. “It looks perfectly normal. At this stage of gestation a foetus is about the size of a lentil and limb development has barely begun. That fluttering is the heartbeat.”

I stare blankly at the frozen screen as he withdraws the ultrasound wand and hands me a wad of tissues, although I don’t move.

“You can clean yourself up now,” he tells me, looking at me keenly. “Have you had your counselling appointment yet Rosalie?”

“No.” I sit up, feeling the lubricant gel ooze out between my legs. I make a face and slide off the table, using the tissues to wipe it up before I dress. The doctor turns his back and prints out something from the ultrasound machine. He moves to his desk and adds a couple of scribbled, handwritten notes at the bottom before he slips it into a folder.

“You’re healthy and there’s no physical reason why we can’t go ahead with the termination today,” the doctor says. “If you go back to the waiting room for now, they’ll call you for your counselling appointment when someone’s free.”

The waiting room is much more crowded now, but I don’t spend time looking around. I bury my nose in my history book, staring blindly at the words that swim before me, and try not to see that fast, fluttering heartbeat in my mind.


	20. Cry Baby

I don’t hear them when they call my name, and they have to call again. I’m embarrassed as I shove my books into my bag and head across the waiting room after the same woman, Claire, who spoke to me earlier. She takes me into a small room that contains a desk, three filing cabinets and two small armchairs, as well as a small table in between the chairs that holds a jug of water, two glasses and a box of tissues.

“Sit down,” Claire invites, taking one of the chairs and indicating the other.

I do as I’m told, perching tensely on the chair as Claire opens the file in her hands and scans the sheets of paper inside. “Doc says you’re good to go this afternoon,” she says. “He also says you wanted to see the ultrasound…”

“He said I was allowed to,” I say defensively.

“Of course you are,” Claire says. “We’re not here to do anything without your full consent and cooperation.”

“I just wanted to see,” I say more quietly.

“And?” Claire prompts.

Unconsciously I twist my hair around one my hands. “I don’t know. It didn’t look like a baby, but…” My voice trails away.

Claire nods. “Have you fully considered this decision Rosalie?” she says softly. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, you seem a little…ambivalent. Would you like to talk about it?”

I shrug helplessly, twisting my hair harder. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s a big decision,” Claire says. “And you’re here on your own too. Is there anyone you’ve talked it over with, anyone that’s going to give you some support? Your parents, the father, friends?”

“I haven’t told anyone. The father – he’s my boyfriend – I don’t know how he’ll react.” _I’m scared to find out._ “All I could think about when I found out was getting rid of it.”

Claire nods, but waits for me to continue.

I comb my fingers distractedly through my hair. “But now that I’m here and it’s all real...it feels different.” I think of the ultrasound, of Vera’s little baby Henry, of the way it felt to be held in my mother’s arms. “I don’t know what to do.” Tears are threatening.

“Hey Rosalie, that’s okay,” Claire says gently. “There’s no right or wrong way to feel about this.”

“But I have to make a decision,” I say, and my eyes well up with tears that I can’t hold back. Whatever I choose is going to change me.

“You will have to make a decision,” Claire agrees. “But if you’re not ready to do it today, then that’s okay.” She glances at my file. “You’re very early in your pregnancy so if you wanted to take a little more time to think it over that would be fine. It’s preferable to carry out terminations in the first trimester, but you’ve still got weeks.”

Once again I twist my fingers in my hair. I can feel the relief in my belly that I don’t have to make up my mind today, that for the time being I can keep both futures open to me, and I breathe a little more easily. “What happens if I don’t want to do it today?”

“If you aren’t sure of your decision, then I give you a bunch of literature about your options and keep your file open,” Claire says lightly. “You’ve done the preliminaries today, so if you decide that termination is the best option for you, you can simply call and make an appointment and we’ll be all ready for you. If you decide on parenting or adoption, then we can give you the names of some OB-GYNs who do prenatal care and birth. We’re also available for you to talk to if you have further questions.”

“I can’t do it today.” I feel sick. What am I doing? By not making a decision am I actually committing to the other decision?

“That’s fine Rosalie,” Claire says gently. From the filing cabinet she pulls out a bundle of pamphlets and fliers and stuffs them into a plain envelope, which she presses into my hands. “Take this home with you and have a read through it. I’ve put in information about termination and what you might experience afterwards as well as information about local resources that can help you out if you choose parenting or adoption. There is help and support for you no matter what you choose.”

My hands are shaking as I take the envelope Claire passes to me, and for a moment our fingertips touch.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” she asks quietly. “Are you frightened of your boyfriend’s reaction? Your family’s reaction? Do you feel you’re at risk?”

“No.” I stand up abruptly. “I’m fine.” The envelope crumples as my hand clenches.

“Rosalie, we have resources to help you if…”

“I’m fine! I don’t need anything. I just…I want to go home now.” I stuff the handouts she gave me into my tote. “Really. Thanks for…I’ll be in touch.”

“Okay then, we’ll wrap it up.” Looking a little troubled, Claire leads me back to the foyer and I pay for the appointments I’ve had. When she gives me a receipt it has a card stapled on to. “That has your patient number on it- if you decide to come back you can give that number to whoever answers the phone and it will make it easier to arrange the appointment.”

I shove the card into the envelope and give her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you.”

Without waiting for a response I leave the clinic at a fast paced walk. I ignore the protesters outside, walking even faster until I’m through them and I can start running. I don’t look where I’m going, I just hold my tote bag tightly against my body and listen to the slap of my Converse on the pavement and the regular rhythm of my breathing and try not to think.

I can’t run long enough. My thoughts haven’t even begun to slow before the burn in my lungs and the heaving of my stomach makes me drop back to a walk. I stop and bend over at the kerb, my hands bunched in my hair to keep it out of the way as I vomit thin strings of bile into the gutter. My eyes smart with tears, but I don’t let them fall.

Standing up and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I see a cafe several blocks ahead, and with a weary sigh I begin walking towards it. I’m hungry and thirsty and exhausted, but the banana berry smoothie and muffin I buy goes a long way towards making me feel better. I’m slurping up the last drops when someone bumps my table, and when I look up I see Royce’s friend Nate standing there with a large coffee.

“Hey Rosalie.”

“Oh Nate…hi.” I surreptitiously wipe my eyes, hoping there are no traces of tears left on my face. I try to give him my usual sassy grin.

“I’m just heading back to school if you want a ride,” Nate says, taking a swig of his coffee. “It will be next period soon.”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” I say breezily. “I’ve got some other stuff to do today, I’m having the day off.”

“Cool,” Nate nods. “You want a ride anywhere else?”

I shrug, suddenly too tired to argue and way too tired to walk all the way back to my home. “Sure, if you could drop me off at home that would be great.”

Nate does so willingly, and as soon as I get home I put on some comfortable pyjama pants and a tshirt, and then crawl under the quilt on my mother’s bed.

_What would you tell me to do Mom? I know I’ve always wanted a baby, but not like this. It was supposed to be later, when I had a husband to love me and we would be in it together. Not like this, when I’m only seventeen and I’m scared to tell Royce and I don’t want anyone to know that I was so dumb as to let it happen in the first place._

_I don’t know what to do. I’ll think about it later._

And quite abruptly, I fall asleep.

* * *

The doorbell ringing insistently awakes me a couple of hours later, and groggily I stumble downstairs to answer it. I’m assuming it’s going to be the fed-ex man and I’m surprised to see Royce instead when I open the door.

“Hi! Come on in,” I say, shaking my hair back and blinking to clear my eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No, I guess not,” Royce mutters. He’s scowling at me, and I feel my senses sharpen as I realise that he’s angry about something.

“Come in to the kitchen and get a snack,” I say, a little nervously. “Are you hungry?”

Royce follows me into the kitchen. “You didn’t answer your phone- what have you been doing today?”

“Nothing much,” I say lightly, taking the milk from the fridge and sniffing it to make sure it’s still fresh. “Just stayed at home.”

“Yeah?” Royce says sceptically, his eyebrows lowered. “I’ve been trying to call you since lunchtime- why weren’t you answering your phone?”

“I must have left it upstairs,” I answer, rifling through the cupboard to find a box of Oreos. “I’ve been asleep in my mom’s room…I just needed a day at home. I’ve got some homework to catch up on and…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Rosalie!”

The Oreos fall to the floor with a clatter as Royce grabs me by a handful of hair on the back of my head and yanks me towards him, until he’s towering over me and I have to bend my neck back to look up at him. I bite my lip so I won’t make a sound.

“I know you weren’t home all day! Nate told me he saw you…so what were you doing then? Meeting some other guy?” Royce snarls. “You might think you can pull that shit off behind my back bitch, but you had better think again…”

“Don’t yell at me!” I want to sound strong, but to my horror my voice quivers and the tears that have been threatening all day spill over onto my cheeks. “Please Royce, it’s not what you think…”

“Well, what the fuck is it then?” Royce tightens his fist in my hair and shakes my head hard enough that I shriek and clamp my hands over his, prying uselessly at his fingers in an effort to make him stop.

“I just went out and got some lunch, I swear to you! I’ve been at home asleep the rest of the afternoon, look I’m wearing pyjamas…please Royce, just stop it.” The tears are coming so fast I can hardly see his angry face through the blur. “Please, please…I didn’t do anything. Don’t…”

“Stupid bitch,” Royce says, but his voice is tender and he releases his grip on my hair and rubs my scalp gently. “You know you can’t hide things from me. And when your brother tells me you’re home sick, and then my buddy tells me he saw you out to lunch…well, what am I supposed to think, hmmm?” He wraps his arms around me and holds me close, stroking my hair the way I like.

Part of me knows how wrong all this is, but he feels so strong and assured and I _did_ lie to him, and I’m just so _tired…_ I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. I love him and need him so much, and a little bit of temper now and again seems like a small price to pay.

“When did you become such a cry baby anyway?” Royce says, when I’ve cried enough tears to dampen his t-shirt. He pushes me away gently, taking a tissue from the box on the counter and wiping my face tenderly. He kisses the end of my nose and stoops down to retrieve the Oreos.

 _Since I became pregnant with your baby._ I don’t say it aloud. I’m scared that if I tell him then the sweet, gentle version of him that’s currently pouring milk and dividing up Oreos will vanish, and I’ll be left with the angry Royce that terrifies me. I’m scared too, of what he might make me do- whether that be have his baby or abort his baby I don’t know. Right now both options horrify me. So I shrug and smile weakly and say, “I must be getting my period or something” and sit down and drink the milk, and somehow the moment passes.  


	21. Fork in the Road

I don’t make a decision. I can’t. I know I can’t birth the baby and give it up for adoption. I know I’m deliberating between parenting and abortion…but when both of the options terrify me, how can I choose? I’ve always felt like a strong person, a determined person who knows her own mind, and now I despite myself for my weakness. But despite that, I just close my eyes to the obvious and pretend it’s not happening, despite the weeks that are passing by all too quickly.

And it _is_ obvious, to me. I wouldn’t have expected early pregnancy to make itself so felt, but for me it does. Vera went months without knowing, but as I struggle through each day dragging under the leaden weight of exhaustion I wonder how on earth she did it. It’s not just the tiredness either. My sense of smell becomes so sensitive that I can’t stand the perfume I’ve worn for years anymore, and I can smell Jasper’s sweaty sneakers in his room the instant I enter the house. The discordant mass of smells in the school cafeteria make me gag; and although I have a constant, low-level nausea bubbling away in my stomach I’m lucky enough not to throw up. My breasts ache ceaselessly, and become so tender and sensitive that I need to wear a sports bra to sleep in to stop the pain from them waking me up. Worse, I am constantly on the brink of tears and find myself weeping over anything, something that I find appalling and which drives Royce to distraction.

“What?” he demands one night, turning to face me on the seat beside him in his family’s theatre room. He runs his hand through his hair, looking baffled. “Rosalie, we’re watching _Terminator_ ….why are you _crying_?”

“I’m not,” I sniffle untruthfully, wiping my eyes on the back of my hands and feeling mortified. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Royce pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me. I wince as my sore breasts are pressed against his chest, but he doesn’t notice as he runs a hand down my back and kisses me. “I love you.”

His kisses are getting more insistent, his hand bunching up my skirt so he can reach underneath it. I kiss him back, but as I close my eyes the waves of exhaustion wash over me and I find myself dizzy with it. I pull away, my hands on his chest and his arms still around me.

“What?” Royce sounds hurt.

“I’m just really tired,” I say softly, playing with the button on his shirt. “It’s been a really long week.”

“Come upstairs,” Royce coaxes. “Please. I’ve hardly seen you this week. We can just lie down, chill out…”

 _Have sex,_ I finish silently. All I really want to do is go home and go to sleep in my own bed. But Royce is looking at me with such tenderness and we really haven’t spent much time together this week, so I take a deep breath and nod, and the two of us walk through his empty house and upstairs to Royce’s room.

His bed is big and I’m warm and comfortable lying beside him, my head on his shoulder and his arms around me. Royce uses the remote control to turn on the stereo, and I close my eyes and relax as the music flows around us and he rubs his hand in small circles on my back.

“Are you really okay?” he asks with sincere concern. “You’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Mmm,” I mumble, already feeling half asleep. “Sorry…I’m really okay. Just tired.”

Royce start stroking my side, running over the curve of my waist and hip. He kisses the top of my head and then nudges and nuzzles at me until I raise my face and kiss his lips. “Love you so much,” he breathes, pushing his thigh in between my legs.

I feel almost drunk with tiredness, and it’s like being in a dream as we kiss and I grind slowly against his leg, my eyes still closed and the music beating in my skull. I’ve thought since I’ve been pregnant that everything between my legs is more sensitive, and now I’m sure of it because all of this rubbing and kissing feels so good. At least until Royce’s hands start wandering, and the pain of my tender breasts being touched brings me out of the pleasant dream and back to reality.

Twice I manage to divert him, taking his hand and holding it in mine, or sliding it down to my ass. The third time he yanks his hand back and then glares at me. “What, Rosalie, what is it?” he demands. “I can’t even touch you now? What’s your problem lately? You tell me there’s nothing wrong, but you’re sure not acting like normal.”

“I’m sorry,” I say wearily. “There’s really nothing…”

“Bullshit!” Royce is angry now. “What the fuck is it? Are you seeing someone else? Are you trying to break it off with me?”

“No!” I look up at him entreatingly. The fact is he’s right and something is up with me doesn’t matter- it’s imperative that he not push for why I’m acting so oddly. “You know I love you.” I hook my leg up higher over his hip. I don’t want to fight with him, I just want to get this over with and go home to bed. I let my hands slip down to the waistband of his pants. “I want you.”

Royce doesn’t need more of an invitation than that, and soon we’re both naked. I don’t say anything when his mouth on my breast makes me want to scream, but instead I wrap my legs around him and do everything I can just to make him come.

Afterwards he holds me gently in his arms, kissing my face and stroking bare skin and telling me that he loves me. He tells me that he’s worried about me, that all he wants is to be with me and that I scare him when I act so distant and weird. My face in his neck I kiss him back, and try and reassure him. Because I _do_ love him, and when he’s like this I want nothing more than to be with him forever. His neediness brings out my protective instinct towards him, and I love feeling so wanted.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” he tells me seriously.

“You won’t,” I tell him, kissing the hollow of this throat. “I love you. Although you _will_ lose me now, because it’s getting late and I have to get home.” I finish with a smile, and Royce laughs.

“Okay babe, let’s get dressed and I’ll drive you.”

We dress, and drive the short distance to my house. Royce parks in the front and leans across and kisses me deeply. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nod. “Sure.”

Royce touches my cheek. “Sleep well…you look like you need it.”

I do need sleep. The staircase that I’ve run up and down nearly every day of my remembered life seems like a mountain as I trudge up it, dropping my bag at the top.

“Hey Rose,” Jasper calls.

I go into his room and flop on the bed beside him. “Hi.”

“Excuse me for saying so, but you kind of look like shit.” Jasper is eyeing me with concern.

“I love you too,” I mumble grumpily. I grab one of his pillows and nestle down on it.

“I’m sorry. But are you getting sick or something?”

“Or something…” I murmur, closing my eyes. Part of me wants to tell Jasper about the baby and beg for him to make up my mind for me, but I am much too tired to get into a difficult emotional conversation now.

I don’t know what Jasper says in response, because I fall asleep before he can talk, and I don’t wake up until morning. Even then I feel like I’ve barely slept. 

Instead of nausea I wake up with a raging appetite, and after my shower I eat two bowls of microwave oatmeal and a banana before it feels like I can face the day. When Royce honks for me, I grab an apple and stuff a bag of peanut butter cups in my pocket for later, and shout to Jasper that we’re going if he wants a ride.

Jasper thumps down the stairs. “Yeah, I’ll come with you if that’s okay. The Camaro wouldn’t start yesterday, Dad’s going to get someone to look at it.”

“We really need to get some serious work done on it,” I comment, leading the way down the path to Royce’s car. I slip into the front seat and kiss Royce. “Jasper’s hitching a ride with us.”

Royce keeps his face blank. I know he doesn’t like Jasper that much. Or at least, he doesn’t like how close we are. It bothers Royce that I have someone in my life who is closer to me than he is, and he doesn’t understand the way Jasper and I are together. I’ve never quite been able to explain to anyone the way our bond is after enduring our mother’s illness and death together, and our dad’s absence.

I don’t think Jasper really likes Royce all that much either. He doesn’t say a lot, but the comments he makes are not complimentary, and he always seems a little displeased when I talk about Royce.

It really makes things difficult for me sometimes.

I’m thinking about the two of them and how different they are, sleepwalking through another day at school, when I hear my name called in the hallway. I turn around blankly and see Mr Rhys, my guidance counsellor.

“Rosalie? You got a minute?”

“I’ve got chemistry,” I say cautiously. What does he want with me?

“I’ll write you a pass. Come on in, I want a word.”

Reluctantly I follow him into his office and take a seat. He sits behind his desk and withdraws a folder from a pile on his desk before he looks at me and smiles kindly.

“I’m glad I caught you. How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I say with a shrug.

“Really? There’s nothing going on?”

I sigh and shake my head. “No, nothing.”

“Well, that’s not what I’ve been hearing.” Mr Rhys flips open the folder and glances down at the papers inside it. “I’ve had your name come up a few times in the past couple of weeks- several of your teachers are very concerned about you and what seems like a very sudden turnaround in your work and behaviour. Not handing homework in, bad scores on quizzes, complete disengagement in class…does this sound like you?”

I shrug. It _wasn’t_ me, a month ago, but now…who knows?

“No one is angry Rosalie, we’re just concerned. It has only been a few weeks but you’ve always been a good student, and this kind of sudden change usually indicates some sort of problem. So if there’s anything you want to talk about…”

He leaves the sentence dangling, and I shake my head. “Really, I’m okay. I’ll do better.”

Mr Rhys sighs. “I hope you will. These grades count, Rosalie.” He shuffles through the papers again and looks at me keenly. “Your SAT scores were excellent, and with your grades up until this point you’re looking great for college applications. But finals are coming up, and you need to get back on track or you’ll be looking at a very different picture, come time to apply next year.”

I stare at him blankly. _College? I don’t even know if I’m going anymore._

“Okay Rosalie?” Mr Rhys is looking at me curiously. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything? There are lots of things we can do if you’re having issues with anything…”

I shake my head, ridiculously close to tears. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ve just had a few things on my mind, but I’ll get back on top of things now. I promise.” I gather my books together and get up. “Thank you, but don’t worry about me. It’s all fine.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but he writes me out a late note for my chemistry teacher and then I leave his office.

I don’t go to chemistry though. Instead I go to the small teachers’ bathroom on the third floor that no one ever uses. I think about Vera and Jim, who used to make out in here all the time, and as I sit on the cool tiled floor with my head against the wall I smile at the thought. I wish I could talk to Vera.

I try, sometimes, but she’s so busy with baby Henry that she doesn’t have time for long, meandering, chatty conversations. When we do try and talk we’re usually interrupted by his wails, or demands for feeding or diaper changing. I understand how it is for her at the moment, but as I sit in the bathroom and think of her I wish it was the way it used to be. I wish I could call her now and tell her I need her, knowing she’d drop everything to help me if she possibly could.

I can’t talk to my other friends. I shudder just at the thought, and face the truth that although we’re friends, I doubt any of them feel enough loyalty to me that they’d be able to hear this juicy gossip and not share it with everyone.

A tear slips down my cheek. How did this happen? How did I go from feeling popular and having a million friends to sitting here in an abandoned bathroom with no one to tell my secrets too?

 _There’s Jasper_ , I remind myself. I could tell him. I could share the burden of this pregnancy and my unmade decision, and I know he would give me the strength I need to make a choice. But something about it seems wrong, disloyal, to tell Jasper before I tell Royce.

Royce. He’s the one I should tell. He’s the only other person who’s involved. But as more tears run silently down my cheek, I acknowledge that right now I’m frightened to tell him. There’s been tension between us, he knows something’s not right and he’s reacting with aggression. I don’t know what he’s going to do if I lay this pregnancy in his lap.

_He loves you. He does. He loves you. He says so, again and again and again. He’ll still love you, even if you tell him this, even if he’s angry. He loves you._

Maybe if I say it often enough I’ll believe it.

I take out my phone and go to the calendar, scrolling through the dates, counting the weeks. Again, I count the weeks and then count forward to December, to the due date. I have to decide, and in the end it doesn’t matter who I might talk to, or who might want to help me through this decision. In the end it’s all down to me. My womb, my baby…I have the privilege and the responsibility of choice, and finally I know what I’m going to do.

I stare at myself in the mirror, seeing what I always see- the perfect face and golden blonde mane of hair that have defined me for so many people – but this time I see more. This time I’m seeing someone’s mother.

My hand tentatively touches my belly. I know that the baby is still tiny and I can’t possibly feel it yet, but I lay my hands over it anyway, imagining that little jellybean with its fast, fluttering heartbeat that I saw at the clinic. Or maybe it’s grown some legs and arms now, I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.

I’m going to have a baby.


	22. The Imperfection in the Perfect

“Okay girls, listen up!” Peyton stands up in front of the bleachers and claps her hands together. “Shut up I said!”

The noise of the cheerleading squad all talking and squealing about the upcoming prom dies down slowly as we all shift around on the bleachers and look towards Peyton. I unpeel a banana and start eating, wondering if I’ll ever not be hungry again, while I wait for her to start talking.

“Thanks for coming out this morning,” Peyton says cheerfully. “But this is important too- we need to elect a captain for next year since I am on my way to college!”

She does a little dance and I can’t help laughing. Peyton’s crazy and she can be kind of a bitch, but I like her a lot and I’ll miss her next year.

“So we’re going to do a secret ballot and vote. Take it seriously guys- you know how good we’ve been and we want to keep up this standard. A good captain is absolutely vital. Think of someone who’s good at cheering, obviously, a good leader, organised…you know the sort of thing.”

Peyton hands around pieces of paper on which is typed the names of all the juniors in the squad, and everyone reaches into purses for pens or calls out to borrow one from someone. I finish my banana while I consider my choices, and in the end I put a tick by Kacey’s name. I think being cheer captain would totally go to her head, but she’s a good, solid cheerleader and she’s certainly bossy enough for the job.

It doesn’t take long for Peyton and Evie to tally up the votes. Everyone else is being loud, the talk all about prom and the after party. All the senior girls are going of course, and most of the junior girls have dates too. The few people who aren’t involved are looking a bit lost.

“It’s going to be a blast,” Kacey says to me, sitting down beside me and grinning. “I can’t wait! You’ll pick me up after Nate?”

I nod. Royce’s friend Nate asked Kacey to go to prom with him, and Royce has borrowed his dad’s limo and Carver with it to drive us all. “Nate’s going to Royce’s place and then they’ll get me and we’ll come for you.” I dig through my tote, hoping to find something to eat, but come up empty. “Do you have any food?”

Kacey snorts. “Food? No. I’ve got gum though, if you want that…”

Better than nothing I suppose, so I accept a piece and start chewing. “Thanks.” Maybe I can stop at Burger King on my way home? _Oh god, I want a hamburger so bad._

“What are you wearing? Did you get something new?” Kacey asks.

I’m surprised that I haven’t talked about this with her, but I suppose I have been a little preoccupied. I’ve made my decision, but I still haven’t told anyone about the baby. There’s something about being the only one knowing that is special, something wonderful about this beautiful secret that makes me so happy.

_I’ve decided baby…I want you, and I love you and I’m going to be the best mama to you. I’ll figure it all out._

“I’m wearing the dress I wore to that benefit dinner for Royce’s dad that I went to,” I admit. “It’s not new, but it was really expensive and I love it.” I have the sudden, horrifying realisation that it might not fit. “What about you?”

Kacey begins describing her dress to me but she’s interrupted by Peyton, yelling for our attention from the gym floor.

“It’s all decided!” Peyton grins happily. “It was pretty one sided too, most of you agreed with this choice, so I’m happy to give you your new captain for next year…Rosalie Hale!”

I visibly jump in surprise. I was not expecting this, not at all, ( _I can’t even cheer next year!)_ and it takes me a moment to pull myself together and head down to Peyton.

“Come on Rosalie, show everyone why they picked you!” Peyton urges, and with everyone stamping their feet and clapping I don’t have much choice. On the bottom bleacher I do a round off leading into a backflip off the end, to a roar and rush of clapping. Feeling a sudden rush of warm happiness I salute them and run to Peyton, who hugs me exuberantly.

“Well done babe,” she laughs. “I wanted it to be you! You deserve it, and you’re going to an awesome job.”

I hug her back. I know I won’t do an awesome job. I won’t do any kind of job at all, because by the time we come back to school next year I’m going to be six months pregnant and in no state to cheer. But right now…right now I want to pretend. I want this moment of glory, this joy of being chosen for something that I’ve wanted ever since I started cheering when I was twelve.

Evie comes over with a box, and Peyton presents it to me with a flourish. “The captain’s pom-poms! Congratulations Rosalie!”

I can’t help laughing as she pulls out two enormous, gaudy gold spangled pom poms, and then I wave them over my head and shake my booty. The other girls laugh and holler, and then everyone comes together to celebrate this final moment of this year’s squad. I’m hugged and patted and congratulated, and I can’t stop smiling. For a brief time all my worries are pushed aside, and I revel in it. Even when we’re done and Peyton is driving me home, we talk about prom and I force myself to enjoy the moment and the excitement.

“Damian and I are coming to prom in Royce’s limo,” she tells me.

I nod like I’d known, although Royce hadn’t mentioned it. It makes sense in a way, since it seems pretty likely that the two of them will be prom king and queen. “I’ll see you then,” I say, hugging my pompoms to me. “It’s going to be a good night.” I climb out of the car and wave as she drives away, before I let myself into the quiet house.

Suddenly tired after the excitement, I push open the door to my mother’s room and go inside. I stretch out on her bed, turning my head to look at the sky through the window, and then for the first time I say it aloud.

“I’m having a baby.”

The words seem to hang in the silent room, and tears come to my eyes. “I’m sorry Mommy,” I whisper, knowing I sound like a baby myself. “I didn’t mean it…but it’s happening now and I don’t want to change it. My baby…I think it’s a girl and I love her already. No one knows she’s there except me, but my whole world is about her now.”

Rolling over I see the dazzling pompoms lying on the floor where I left them, and I stare at them until the image is so blurred with tears that all I see are sparkles.

_They voted me captain. I accepted it, but I know I’ll never be able to do it. I’m going to have to come clean about this soon, tell everyone that I’ve messed things up and I’m going to have a baby._

_As much as I love her…I know that this shouldn’t have happened. After a lifetime of striving to be perfect, to be that girl that everyone admires and envies, that girl who is smart and beautiful and going places, I’ve come crashing down. I can’t hide it for too much longer, I’m going to have to admit that I’m not perfect and not what I’ve pretended to be._

_I hope they’ll accept it. I hope the people who matter will still love me anyway, even when I’m not perfect. Jasper will. Royce…_

I don’t want to think of Royce. He loves the beautiful, perfect Rosalie who looks so good on his arm and sitting in his lap when we’re hanging out with his friends. Is he still going to love the Rosalie who is flawed and makes mistakes and doesn’t know where she’s going? Burying my face in the pillow, I cry silently for a long, long time.

* * *

 With everything that has been preying on my mind, the senior prom has faded into insignificance. Royce asked me ages ago, or at least he assumed I’d be going with him, but it’s been the last thing on my mind. In the end I was too late to book my usual hairdresser for an appointment, so Vera offered to help out and so, on the day of prom, I drive over to her apartment.

“Perfect timing,” Vera says when she opens the door to me. “His highness has just gone down for a nap so we _might_ get enough time to do something.” She looks frazzled.

“Bad day?” I ask uncertainly.

Vera shrugs. “The usual. He’s being…a baby, I guess.” She takes my hand and tows me down to the living area, where there’s a pile of pictures torn out of magazines. “Now, have a look at these. I’ve been finding some pictures of styles I can do that will look amazing on you.”

I look at the pile and giggle. “Wow Vee…you’re keen to do my hair?”

“Are you kidding?” Vera laughs. “Doing your hair for prom is like the highlight of my day! I barely even get to wash my own hair, and I haven’t done anything more adventurous than a ponytail since Henry was born. Now sit down and let’s get started!”

I like all the hairstyles Vera has picked out. She knows me well and we have fairly similar tastes, so in the end I say she can choose and just sit down on the stool and let her get to work. We talk while she brushes and twists and pins. I tell her about the cheerleader captain vote, and she tells me about the baby and the almost incomprehensible drama of her mother and baby group. We’re not done when I hear the unmistakeable wail of a baby.

“Oh for…” Vera says a word I didn’t think mommies would ever say about their babies and then sighs. “Sorry Rosalie, it’s break time. If you want something to drink check the fridge, and there are some choc chip cookies from Jim’s mom in the pantry which I can really recommend.”

By the time I’ve poured myself a drink of milk and found the cookies Vera is back, Henry wailing furiously in her arms. “He’s hungry,” she says. “Sorry, I’ll have to feed him.” On the sofa she settles a big pillow on her lap and then lifts her t-shirt and fiddles with her bra. I catch a glimpse of her breast, brown nipple already glistening with milk, before the baby latches on and the noise of his screams stops abruptly.

“That’s effective,” I say, watching her in fascination.

Vera giggles and brushes her hand tenderly over the dark curly hair on her son’s head. “It is…he’s a bit of a piglet, my baby Henry.”

“Does that hurt?” I can’t resist asking. I’m sitting beside them on the sofa and I can see the baby’s jaw moving with the strength of his sucking.

“Breastfeeding?” Vera shakes her head. “No. It was a bit sore at first, when we were figuring it out, but he’s got a good latch and we’re pretty used to it now.”

“Why did you decide to do it?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone breastfeed a baby.

“It’s better for him,” Vera says with a shrug. “And it’s free, as opposed to formula, so that was a big consideration for me with the way our budget is going!” She laughs. “Why so interested?”

I shrug. “Just curious.”

_And I’ve just realised that this is the kind of decision I’m going to have to make when I’m a mother too. Am I going to breastfeed or formula feed? What do you need for a baby? A crib? A carseat? A stroller or one of those carrier things? How much does it all cost? What if it gets sick? How do you make it stop crying and go to sleep? How the hell do you KNOW?_

I open my mouth to tell Vera about my pregnancy, but before I can say anything the baby drops her nipple from his mouth, yawns widely and then vomits most of what he’s just drunk right back over Vera.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?” I exclaim, horrified.

Vera sputters with laughter. “Nothing! He does this all the time! I’ve got loads of milk and he drinks more than he can hold so half of it comes back up. That’s why I’m constantly draped in burp rags.” She grabs the striped cotton cloth from under the baby and expertly wipes everything up. I’m impressed- when she’s done there’s not a drop or a mark on either her or the baby, although the same can’t be said for the striped cloth. “Here,” she says, passing Henry across to me. “You hold him while I go to the bathroom and wash my hands and get rid of this.”

I lie the baby on my thighs, my hands cupped behind his head as the two of us regard each other thoughtfully. My heart feels soft as I look at him. Henry is beautiful, with dark hair that’s already beginning to curl up over his head, wide blue eyes and a plump red mouth. He kicks his legs and waves his fists as he lies there, and then his face kind of crumples before he gives me a wide, gummy smile.

“Oh!” The ever present tears come to my eyes, but I’m smiling too, enchanted with this baby. “You’re happy, right? That’s why you smiled at me?” I lift him to my face so I can kiss his downy forehead and whisper into the beautiful shell of his ear. “I’m growing a baby you know. Just a tiny little thing that’s hiding now, but one day I’ll be holding her just like this. I don’t know for sure, but I think my baby is going to be a girl. If she is, I want to name her after my mom…her name was Lillian, but everyone called her Lily. You can be my baby Lily’s friend, and your mommy will help me learn what I need to know. It’s going to work out.”


	23. Prom

Vera does my make up for prom too, her hands gentle and sure on my face. I close my eyes and think how nice it feels to have someone just take care of me, even if only for a short time.

“I wish I was coming with you,” Vera says suddenly.

I open my eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean…this is so embarrassing, but I’ve always had this beautiful romantic vision of the senior prom and I always imagined us going together with our dates. Me with Jim, you with…well, someone, since you weren’t with Royce when I imagined that! I just thought we’d be getting ready together, doing our hair and dressing up and…I don’t know. It’s stupid.” Vera bites her lip as she brushes on some more eye shadow.

I reach out my hand and touch hers. “It’s not stupid,” I say softly. “Prom is special. And there’s always next year, when you and I are actually seniors.”

“I know. But it’s not the same.” Vera glances over to Henry, asleep in a Moses basket by the sofa. “There’s him for a start. And to be honest, now that he’s working Jim’s pretty over the high school thing.”

“I guess things change,” I say slowly. “People change.”

“That’s true. Although one thing never changes…you are so beautiful Rosalie!” Vera laughs and pushes me towards the bathroom. “Go and look.”

I _am_ beautiful. I know how vain it is and I’m glad no one is there to see the smile as I look at my own reflection. Vera has done an expert job on my hair and her make up application is perfect.

“Thank you,” I say, hugging her tightly. “You did a beautiful job.”

“Easy to do a good job when I’m working on you,” Vera teases. “How can I go wrong with that face? You’d better go home and get ready now. I hope you have a wonderful time.” She smiles, but I see a certain wistful look in her face as she waves me goodbye.

Back at home I go to my room to get dressed. I spent hours at Vera’s house and I don’t have a lot of time. I’m only halfway into the beaded gown I wore to the benefit dinner when I realise I’ve got a problem.

It doesn’t fit. I do manage to get it on, but there is absolutely no way that anyone is going to be able to pull the dress together and zip it up. I shriek and struggle my way out of it, leaving the dress pooled on the floor as I run to the bathroom.

The scale says I’ve only gained four pounds. That’s nothing, but as I look at my full length reflection in the mirror I can see that it’s not about the number. My breasts are not only tender but they’re bigger, and there is already a slight rounding to my belly. Not exactly a baby bump, but just a general thickening through my waist.

My mouth drops open. How can this be happening already? Vera was able to hide her pregnancy for _months_ , and I’m looking at myself and feeling glad that Royce isn’t that observant or he could have noticed this. Shaking my head with disbelief I go back to my room.

I have to figure out something to wear tonight. The benefit dinner dress is obviously out, since I can’t even get it on. I rehang it, and then consider my other formal dresses. The black dress…no. It’s too tight, and I can’t go to prom looking fat. The sky blue one might work, I do love it and it does make my eyes pop, but it’s got a boned bodice that I’m never going to be able to crush my newly bigger breasts into. The red one might be okay. I take it out of the closet and regard it doubtfully.  There’s some stretch to the fabric over the breasts, and it skims across my belly as it falls to the floor. It’s not what I had planned, but beggars can’t be choosers and I don’t have any other ideas.

I’m reassured once the dress is on and I see how well it fits. I look fine. It’s not as spectacular as the beaded dress, but it’s still good. I touch up my make up and find a different pair of heels, and then add the diamond earrings from Royce and my mom’s pendant.

I’m ready just in time, hearing the knock on the door as I’m finishing a drink of water. I let Royce in, smiling at him as he presents me with a wrist corsage.

“Thank you,” I say, touching the red and silver ribbons on it. “It’s the perfect corsage.”

“This too,” Royce says, fishing in his pocket for a jewellery case.

I take it from him and open it, gasping at the sparkle of the diamond bracelet inside it. “Royce, I can’t take this!”

“Oh, shut up,” Royce says with a grin, taking it out of the box and looping it over my wrist. “I bought it for you so you have to take it. It matches the earrings and your necklace so now you have the set. Well, almost a set anyway. There should be a ring too. One day.”

I just about fall over. Seriously? A ring?

_Please stop pushing me. Give me time._

Royce chuckles at my gaping mouth, and finishes doing up the clasp on the bracelet before he hugs me. “You’re gorgeous.” He looks around my empty house. “No pictures? It was a freaking photo shoot at Peyton’s place before we could get away.”

I shake my head and take his hand tightly. “Pictures? Who would take them?”

My heart aches and I wish he hadn’t said anything because this is an occasion when there _should_ be pictures. There should be my mom fussing about my dress and if I’ll be cold and where we’re going afterwards, and my dad telling me how beautiful I am and that if I need them I only need to call. There shouldn’t be this cold, empty house and no one caring.

But I can’t think about that now. I squeeze Royce’s hand and he leads me down to the waiting limo and our friends, and I take a deep breath and put on a brilliant smile. No one can know that my heart isn’t in this.

My heart might not be in it at first, but I can’t help but be caught up in the excitement and magic of prom. The photo in front of the fake woodland background, the decorations and music, the boys in tuxes and the girls all in their best formal dresses with their corsages…it’s all been done a thousand times but it’s magical because this time it’s _ours._

And I laugh when Royce kisses me and our first photo turns into a blur of his head coming down to mine, and I turn flirty eyes on the photographer and beg for another. His impatience with Royce’s fooling melts in the face of my big blue eyes and pleading smile and he takes several photos and lets me choose my favourite. When Royce takes my hand and leads me into the hotel ballroom they’ve hired, my heart lifts as I hear the music and see the people dancing. I love this, and just for tonight I’m not going to think about anything that worries me. I’m going to dance, and laugh, and have fun…I’m going to have one last night of being just a girl before I have to start facing the reality of what is happening to me.

I love to dance. I did twelve years of ballet, a year or so of jazz or contemporary dance here or there, and this was my sixth year of cheering. I love the way my body moves. I love dancing in a crowd and being part of something bigger, but knowing all along that I look beautiful and move well and that people are watching me.

Royce watches me. He likes to dance too, and stays with me out on the floor, his dark eyes shining as he watches me, touching me when he can. When the slow songs come on he wraps his arms around me and I rest my hot face on his chest and move dreamily with him. His heartbeat in my ear thuds as loud as the music; I forget everyone else there as I close my eyes and feel his body against mine.

“You want to go outside for a while?” Royce asks.

“Sure.” I follow him outside and over to the parking lot, where Carver is sitting on the hood of the limo and smoking.

He drops the cigarette as we approach and stands up. “Hey RJ, do you want something?”

“Just the bar,” Royce says, holding open the rear door for me.

A frown flickers across Carver’s face. “RJ buddy, you know what your dad said about supplying all your friends.”

“Yeah, yeah. Chill,” Royce says irritably. “It’s just me and Rosalie. We’re gonna hang out here for a bit, so you can…I don’t know. Not interrupt.” Without waiting for an answer Royce climbs into the limo after me and slams the door. “My fucking dad sending Carver along to babysit!”

“It’s okay,” I say, smiling at Royce. He’s been wonderful tonight, and he really does look handsome in his tux.

Any irritation Royce feels disappears as he looks at me and smiles. “You look really beautiful tonight.” He cups my face in his hand and kisses me, and I willingly kiss him back.

We stop and Royce helps himself to the minibar in the limo. He downs some bourbon and pours some for me too, but I tell him I’ll have it in a minute and can I have some orange juice first. I know I can’t drink any alcohol but I also know that if I don’t Royce will ask why. So instead I sit in his lap and distract him with kisses, letting him touch me, and not objecting when he starts pushing my head towards his groin even though I usually hate it when he does that. Instead I slide onto my knees and unfasten his pants, taking him into my mouth and hoping that he doesn’t mess my hair up when I feel his heavy hands on my head.

He doesn’t mess up my hair, but I nearly mess up everything when he comes. My gag reflex, made more sensitive from the pregnancy, goes into overdrive and I only just manage to get the door open and stumble out before I throw up all over the rear wheel of the limo.

“Rosalie!” Carver is by my side in a second, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders as I lean forward and try to stop gagging. “Are you okay? Have you been drinking too much?”

I shake my head, shivering in the cool night air. “No! I’m fine…”

“RJ, I’m getting some water for…ah shit, sorry.” Carver backs out from where he was leaning into the limo and I see that Royce is sprawled on the back seat, casually tucking himself back in and doing his pants up. He’s grinning at Carver’s discomfort.

I don’t know who is more embarrassed, Carver or I. I want to wipe that smug smile off Royce’s face, but I feel shaky and weak after vomiting, and the ever-present tears are threatening again.

“Rosalie, are you really okay?”

I guess Carver’s got over his embarrassment, or at least it seems to have been overtaken by concern as he presses a bottle of water into my hand. He’s got his back to the limo and he drops his voice so that Royce can’t hear him.

“Do you need someone? I can call someone, if you…if he…” He stops, obviously struggling to find words as I glance at him sharply. How much does Carver know about Royce, and the way can be with me sometimes?

I rinse my mouth and spit, figuring that nothing can be worse than the mess Carver just saw me throwing up, and then straighten up. “I’m fine, thank you,” I say quietly.

“Okay then.” Carver nods slowly. “I’m out here if you need me.”

Royce slips an arm around my waist. “Feel better now?” He nuzzles into the side of my neck. “Want to go back in?”

I nod my thanks to Carver, and then take a deep breath and grin at Royce. “I’m fine. And we’d better go back in, since they’re going to announce prom king and queen soon, and what will they do if you’re not there?”

Royce chuckles and kisses my ear. “You should be queen.” When I laugh at him he straightens up and touches my lip with his finger, his eyes serious. “You are okay?”

“Yes, I’m good!” I tug on his hand. “Come on, let’s go back and dance.”

We do dance some more, and then Royce hangs out with his buddies for a while, all of them drinking surreptitiously from hip flasks, as I dance with some of the other cheerleaders. There are a few boys that dare Royce’s wrath and either ask me to dance or just try to join in, but I say no with a shake of my head and a smile. I don’t want anything else to ruin tonight.

I do dance with Nate, who comes over and grabs me before I can tell him to get lost. He’s strong enough that I can’t do anything as he picks me up and spins me around and does the most ridiculous, exaggerated dirty dancing moves on me as I shriek. I think Royce is going to be furious, but Nate carries me over to him and hefts me into his arms.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Nate says, his words slightly slurred. “Not that I wouldn’t go there…but bros before hos, you know!”

I push him away in indignation and then wrap my arms around Royce’s neck, so glad to see that he’s laughing and not mad. He’s holding me with an arm around my back and another under my knees, and his grip tightens as I stroke his face. The diamonds on my wrist glitter.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“You’re beautiful.”

Our kissing is interrupted by the call for the prom king and queen nominations to go up the front, and Royce leaves me reluctantly. I push my way to the front and watch him stand up there looking so much more handsome and assured than the other boys, and it’s no surprise when he’s crowned king. I applaud along with everyone else, and when he takes the flowers he was given and kneels at the edge of the stage to offer them to me I can’t stop my smile, or my embarrassed blushing.

Royce poses for photos with Peyton, the queen, and the rest of the court as I hug my flowers and watch. He winks at me, and I can’t help giggling at the absurdity of the prom traditions.

The after party is at Royce’s place. It’s the only time this year that his parents have allowed him to open up the house, but they’ve gone all out this time. There’s food and more music and dancing, as well as space to relax and chill out. Mr King has some more of his security people there to keep an eye on things, but they’re unobtrusive and don’t ruin anyone’s good time. Royce and I are at the centre of everything.

At least we are until early in the morning, when Royce takes my hand and we slip past one of the security detail and head upstairs, going into Royce’s room and closing the door behind us.

“You look so beautiful tonight.”

Royce is drunk now, fumbling as he tries to unfasten my dress. He gives up and starts pulling it up from the bottom instead.

“You’re drunk,” I say indulgently. “Maybe you should lie down.”

“Only if you take off your dress and come with me.”

I laugh and pull down the zip, shrugging it off. “Sure, if you want to.”

Royce groans, and starts tugging at his clothes. “You’re so fucking sexy wearing my diamonds.” I see two buttons pop off his shirt before he manages to get the rest undone, and then his pants follow quickly.

I think he’ll be too drunk to do anything, but he surprises me. The sex is slow and sweet, and the extra sensitivity of my pregnant body floods me with pleasure as Royce touches me, and I come and then come again before he finally slumps down beside me, exhausted.

“I love you.” Royce holds me close, stroking my back and looking at me, his eyes dark in the moonlight from the open window. “I really, really love you.”

I press my lips to his collarbone. I love him too…maybe soon I’ll tell him about the baby, and maybe it will all work out better than I’m afraid of.


	24. Seeing What's Hidden

“Rosalie?”

I put down the magazine I’m reading and hastily follow the nurse beckoning me into an exam room. I’ve finally booked an appointment with the obstetrician who partners with my regular gynaecologist, and after a forty-five minute wait they’re ready for me.

In the exam room the nurse weighs me, takes my blood pressure and then sends me off to the bathroom to pee in a cup. I can’t help making a face as I give it back to her, and she gives me a small smile. “This is your first time? We’re testing your urine for sugar and protein, both of which might indicate a problem.” She puts a test stick into the cup and then looks at it, scribbling some notes down on my chart. “But you’re fine for today. Now, undress and then put on the gown and hop up on the bed, and the doctor will be in to see you soon.”

Once she’s gone I take my clothes off, folding them neatly and placing them on the chair. There’s a mirror on the back of the door, and before I cover up with the cotton hospital gown I stand for a moment, looking at myself. You can’t mistake it now, if you see it like this. The hard swelling that curves my belly out below my navel can’t be anything but a pregnancy.

It surprises me how much I like it. I’ve always been so proud of the flat, muscular stomach that years of exercise has given me, that I had thought I would watch it disappear with something close to horror. But the slight rounding and softening that pregnancy has lent to my body appeals to me, and I run my hand gently across my belly before I slip into the gown and climb up on to the table.

“Rosalie? I’m Dr Sadler. It’s nice to meet you.”

The doctor is an older woman with a pleasant smile and bright eyes, who bustles in holding my chart in one hand and holding out the other one to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got…” She runs her eyes down my chart. “You’ve been seeing Dr Davidson for your care, but now you’re having a baby so she’s passed you along to me. Looking at the information you’ve provided, you’re seventeen and you’re sixteen weeks pregnant? Have you had any prenatal care anywhere else?”

I shift uneasily. I feel like an irresponsible child. “Not really. When I first found out, I thought…um, well, I was going to have an abortion. I went to the clinic and they checked me out and did an ultrasound then. And I’m going to be eighteen when the baby is born,” I add, somewhat defensively.

Dr Saddler smiles. “I’m not here to judge you on your age, but as a teen mother there’s a few things we’ll need to take extra care with. I take it there were no concerns raised at the clinic?”

I shake my head. “No, it was all fine. Me and the baby.”

“That’s good to know. Now Rosalie, what I’d like to do today is a quick exam with an ultrasound, just to see where we’re at in terms of dates. Then we can talk about how you’re feeling, any concerns, what the plan is for the rest of your pregnancy, what you need to be doing to take care of yourself and the baby. Okay?”

I nod, and lie back down on the bed. Dr Sadler raises my gown and then I feel her small hands pressing against my lower belly and I wrap my fingers in my hair, trying not to squirm.

“Nice size uterus there,” she says. “They only saw one? Not twins?”

“No!”

She laughs. “You must just be one of the lucky ones who pops out early. Let’s take a look.”

The gel she rubs on my belly is cold, but I’m too excited to care. “You’ll let me see? I saw at the clinic…it looked like a jellybean.”

“You’ll see a big difference today.” Dr Sadler presses the transducer into my skin and moves it around. “And….hello little one!”

It’s nothing like the jellybean with the fluttering heartbeat I remembered. This time I see a head and arms and legs, and the curve of a human skeleton from an oversized skull. I wrap both hands in my hair and stare, silent and in awe, of what my body has done. I see the baby’s skull when it turns its head, and the way the legs kick like a cheerleader already. I see the tiny hands, held up by the face, and the doctor tells me that babies can suck their thumbs even in the womb. Dr Sadler takes notes and measurements, but it’s not until she presses the transducer hard in beside my hipbone and the baby jerks and somersaults away that I speak.

“Don’t hurt her,” I say anxiously. “When you pushed in, I don’t think she liked it.”

Dr Sadler’s laugh is gentle. “You don’t have to worry Rosalie, it’s very well protected in there. Your pelvic bones hold it safe, and the amniotic fluid around the baby will protect it from any little bumps.” She takes some more measurements. “You think it’s a girl?”

“Can you tell?” I ask.

“I can’t tell you for sure that it’s a girl but I haven’t seen anything that makes me think it’s a boy either! You’ll have to wait for your twenty week scan to be sure.”  She turns the machine off, and smiles at my noise of disappointment. “Sorry. But I’ll print out some pictures for you while you get dressed.”

I hurry into my clothes, the stretchy yoga pants that are the only things that fit now and one of Jasper’s t-shirts, which is loose enough to disguise the bump. Dr Sadler gives me the ultrasound pictures, and I sit and stare at the grey and black images with my heart full to bursting.

“Health wise, you’re in great shape,” Dr Sadler says, after looking at the notes from the nurse and talking to me about how I’ve been feeling. “I’m giving you a prescription for a prenatal vitamin that I want you to take, but apart from that just keep on with what you’re doing.” She looks at me keenly. “Now we need to talk about your emotional wellbeing and your support system. What about your family? And the baby’s father?”

I fidget with my hair. “Well, no one really knows just yet.”

“Is there a reason that you haven’t told anyone?” Her voice is gentle.

Shrugging helplessly I look down at the pictures in my hand and don’t answer.

“There are resources to help you if you need them Rosalie. In an ideal world everyone would have a caring partner and a loving and supportive family, but we know it doesn’t always work out that way. We can help you if you need a safe place or other assistance for yourself or the baby when it’s born.”

“It’s not like that,” I say. “My brother is great and my dad is…well, he’ll be upset but he’ll come around. I just didn’t tell them because I didn’t know what I was going to do and I didn’t want to cause a fuss if I didn’t have to. I don’t have my mom anymore.”

“The baby’s dad? Do you want to tell me about him?” she asks softly.

I sigh. “He’s my boyfriend. I don’t know what he’ll do…but I have to tell him pretty soon.” I touch my belly a little self-consciously. “I guess part of me hoped he’d just notice.”

“Men can be pretty unobservant sometimes,” Dr Sadler says. “Well, it sounds as though you’re ready to share the news with your family, so good luck. I’d like to see you again in a month, Rosalie. You’ll be twenty weeks then so we can do the anatomy scan. Of course if you have any problems or concerns you can always call and speak to the nurse, or leave a message for me.”

“Thank you.” I enter the appointment in my phone calendar and tuck the precious ultrasound photos away in my purse before I leave the doctor’s office. I feel light and happy, and amazed when I think about what is happening deep inside me. There’s a whole tiny person there! Watching the baby roll and kick on the screen has made it all seem so much more real.

I head to Royce’s house. Maybe today I’ll finally be able to tell him. Maybe I’ll be able to show him the pictures and explain what kind of miracle this is, and he’ll hold me and smile and we’ll deal with it together. Maybe.

Those thoughts don’t last. At the house Celia lets me in, and I climb up the stairs to Royce’s room, where he opens the door to me wearing a pair of boxer shorts, half asleep and scowling furiously, and exuding a smell of alcohol so strong it nearly knocks me over.

“Come in,” he mutters, falling back into bed with a groan. “Uuurgh…I feel like shit.”

“You look like hell.” I perch on the edge of his desk. “What did you do last night?”

“Went to Nate’s,” Royce mutters. “Had a few beers.”

“A few too many I think,” I say lightly, but Royce doesn’t take it as a joke. His dark eyes glare at me balefully.

“What else am I supposed to do but drink with my buddies if you’re not around? I wouldn’t have got so hammered if you were there.” Royce’s voice is hard. “But you had something else more important on…”

 _Oh, not this again!_ “It was Mina’s birthday and she invited me to have dinner with her and her family,” I say patiently. “I explained that to you.”

Royce doesn’t answer, instead slouching off to his bathroom. He doesn’t bother to close the door, and I hear more than I ever wanted to before he comes out again. Naked this time, he sprawls across his bed and shuts his eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask after a long silence.

“You can come over here and suck my dick,” Royce says crankily. “That’s what you can do.”

The thought of putting my face anywhere near his unwashed body and the smell of stale alcohol surrounding it makes me gag. “Come on Royce, why don’t you get up and have a shower?”

“What?” He sits up and stares at me belligerently. “I’m tired, I’m hungover, and I’m horny…you can do something about the last one.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Royce has his cock in his hand and is staring at me. “Come on Rosalie.”

“Royce, you need a shower,” I say, trying to sound calm. “You said we were going to Peyton’s today to hang out by the pool and she’s expecting us.”

_Except…how am I supposed to wear a bikini now? Royce hasn’t noticed yet but I’m NEVER going to be able to walk around in front of Peyton will my belly sticking out over my bikini bottoms without her saying something._

“Damn it Rosalie!”

My thoughts are wrenched away from the size of my stomach as Royce slams his fist against the bedhead and rises to his feet.

“Did you just come over to bitch at me?” he demands. “Because that’s all I’m getting here!”

“I didn’t,” I say, irritated. “I came over because we were supposed to be going to Peyton’s. But you obviously don’t want to go, so whatever.” I slide off the edge of the desk.

“What are you doing?” Royce grabs my arm.

Suddenly furious with him, I yank my arm free. “I’m going home,” I snap. “Because I was having a really good day until I came over here and had to deal with you being an asshole.”

“See what I mean? You’re being such a bitch,” Royce says in an injured tone.

“I’m NOT!” I shout. “You’re….oh, whatever. I’m going home. You can do whatever you want.” I turn towards the door.

“Rose…” Royce takes hold of my arm again. “You’re really overreacting here.”

I pull against his tight grip. “Let me go. I want to go home.”

“I’m _trying_ to talk to you.” Royce’s voice is dangerously low.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. You can call me later.” I start trying to prise his fingers off my upper arm.

“I’m _trying_ to apologise…”

“I want to go home!” I can’t move Royce’s hand, and in frustration I dig my fingernails into him. “Let me go!”

“I SAID I’m trying to fucking APOLOGISE!” he shouts.

He hits me.

An open handed slap across the side of my head that makes my ears ring and sends me reeling. I stop with my back against the door, my hand instinctively clutching at the side of my face as Royce and I stare at each other in shock. No one has ever hit me in my life. Even when I was little my mom and dad never spanked, and now I’ve been slapped across the head by this boy who is supposed to love me. I feel sick.

“You hit me,” I say numbly.

“If you hadn’t been such a _bitch_ , if you had just _listened_ to me _…_ ” Royce is shaking.

“No.” I grope behind me for the door handle. “Please don’t…I’m going home.”

I wrench the door open and run, hearing Royce furiously shout my name and then the barrage of profanity and the crash of something being thrown. I’m careless in my hurry to get away and I slip on the stairs, desperately twisting my body so that I land hard on my hip rather than risk hurting the baby.

“Rosalie!”

I nearly scream but it’s just Carver, running to my side. I take the hand he offers and he helps me to my feet, his face a mask of concern.

“I’m just going home,” I say stupidly.

Carver glances up the stairs. “Do you need a ride?”

“I’ve got the Camaro.” I start for the door, surprised when Carver keeps pace beside me. From upstairs, Royce shouts for me again, and I can’t help touching the side of my face, which is throbbing. I wonder if Carver can see a mark.

“Rosalie…” Carver holds the door of the Camaro as I slide in, fumbling in my purse for the keys. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can drive you.”

I blink fast, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I…it’s okay…Royce…I’m okay.”

Carver is still holding the door, preventing me from closing it, and I glance up at his face, which clearly betrays his indecision. He sees me looking at him.

“Look Rosalie, I don’t know what happened, and maybe it’s none of my business, but if you need some help you can call me,” he says fast. “RJ can be…difficult. I can always talk to Mr Royce if…”

“NO!” I shake my head. “Thank you, but it’s really okay. Really... I just want to go home.”

Carver hesitates. “If you’re sure. But remember Rosalie- come to me if you need to.”

I don’t know how I get home. The drive passes in a blur, and then I’m stumbling inside and shouting for Jasper, desperate for someone to be with. But I’m answered only by silence. With a heavy heart I go into my mother’s room and curl up on the bed, laying my hot face against one of the cool pillows and closing my eyes.

_He hit me. Mommy, he hurt me…what have I done?_

It’s not just that he hit me today. It’s that the blatant violence of that slap have opened my eyes to what else he’s done to me over the time we’ve been together. All the things I didn’t see because I made myself deliberately blind to what they really were. A thousand brief moments of cruelty that I’ve dismissed, all the derogatory words and things that hurt that I’ve overlooked or excused because he loves me and I love him.

 _He doesn’t love you. If he loved you,_ really _loved you, he wouldn’t do any of those things._

I bury my face in the pillow and sob, feeling pain like a physical thing at these realisations. Hating Royce for doing this to me, but even more than hating myself for letting him, for being involved in all this and making a baby with him and…

_Oh Rosalie, you are so goddamn stupid!_

I’m glad no one is home to hear me, because I’m howling now, feeling so sick and horrified and afraid that I don’t even know how to stop.

_He hurt me. He hit me. And I’m having his baby, and I’m so scared of what he’s going to do, because if he hits me he’ll hit her too._

I fumble with my purse, pulling out the strip of ultrasound photos. The grey and black pictures, with the white bones of her spine, the picture of the tiny hand held up beside the oversized head…I stare at them all and make myself relax, although nothing can stop the tears.

I have to break up with him. I know that now.

I realise with a sickening feeling of dread that he’s the baby’s father, and nothing is going to change that connection we’ll always share. I’m not going to be able to just break up with him and banish him from my life. But whatever happens with the baby, I can’t let myself be in position where he thinks he can hurt me.

_I’ll break up with him. We will have to sort out what happens with the baby- he might not even want her and I don’t want anything from him if he doesn’t. But we won’t be together. I’ll have to be strong enough on my own._

_It’s okay little baby. I WILL be strong enough. I won’t let him hurt me, and I won’t let him hurt you either. I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Oh, Rosalie…my poor girl. This chapter is really where the relationship with Royce ends for her. Up to this point, everything he’s done she’s forgiven or ignored, not because she’s stupid but because she wants so much for their love to be real. Rosalie is a girl who’s used to attention and gets a lot of her validation and sense of self from other people, so having this rich, good looking, charismatic boy who is completely obsessed with her and constantly tells her how much he loves her is something that really matters to her. So she’s been able to overlook the little nasty comments and flashes of temper, pretend they don’t matter, and tell herself that she’s living out a wonderful love story. Then he hits her, and it all comes crashing down.  
> Thank to anyone who has actually read this story to this point- I know it’s pretty hard going! But I do appreciate it. There is another chapter or two of Rosalie and Royce, and then probably eight or so chapters about Rosalie and her attack and recovery and decision to go to the Cullens. So I hope you stick with it, and feel free to write a review or send me a message because I love them!


	25. An End and a Beginning

I wake in my mother’s room, feeling slightly disoriented as I look around at the early twilight dimness and the figure sitting beside me on the bed. I must have fallen asleep…

“It’s just me.” Jasper’s voice is quiet, and I can see his shadowed eyes watching me.

I grunt and struggle to sit up, rubbing my eyes and yawning. I must have slept for hours. I notice the ultrasound photos on the quilt, and surreptitiously put my hand over it and slide it under the pillow. I don’t want Jasper to see just yet.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Jasper says. “You weren’t anywhere in the house.”

“You know I like to come in here.”

“You’ve been in here a lot lately,” Jasper says carefully. “Is there something wrong?”

_Everything is wrong, Jasper. I’ve messed up everything._

I shrug and play with my hair a little bit. “There’s some things going on…but I think I’ve figured it out now.”

“You can talk to me if you want, you know that right?” Jasper taps me gently on the leg. “Did you have a fight with Royce?”

My heart thuds. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he called my phone looking for you,” Jasper says wryly. “Said you weren’t answering yours.”

I turn my phone on, grimacing at the number of missed calls and messages. “Yeah actually, we did have a fight. But it’s not a big deal…like I said, I’ve figured it out. “ I grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “Do you want to do something tonight? Go to a movie or something?”

“Sure.” Jasper sounds both surprised and pleased. “That’d be good. We can grab some dinner too…let’s go.”

I have fun with Jasper. He makes me laugh, and he’s so relaxing to be around. He cares enough to buy me peanut M&Ms without asking and knows me well enough to snitch them without asking too, because I’ll never share my peanuts otherwise! I’d almost forgotten, in all my months with Royce, what it’s like to be with someone who knows all my flaws and doesn’t care about them. I’m almost happy when we get home and I fall into bed to go to sleep, carefully tucking my precious ultrasound photos into my jewellery box before I do so.

The happiness has fled in the morning. All I feel is a heavy, sinking feeling of dread as I eat my morning oatmeal and listen to the messages Royce has left me overnight. His messages run the gamut from furious rage to grovelling apology, but I delete everything before I go up to my room to shower. I can’t listen to his excuses. Already I feel my heart softening and beginning to try and excuse what he did, and I know I can’t let myself do that. Not this time.

My capri pants won’t button anymore, so I loop a hair tie in the button hole and stretch it across the bulge of my belly to the button to hold them on and slip on one of my own t-shirts, not trying to hide anything now. I’m going to break up with Royce today, and tell him about the baby. Once that’s done I can think about telling Jasper, and Dad, and everyone else. I don’t want to lie anymore.

I intend to call Royce and meet him someplace neutral, someplace public to talk to him. I don’t acknowledge it, but the truth is I’m scared that he’ll hit me again and I know I’ll feel safer if there are other people nearby. But when I go downstairs again he’s already here, sitting on the front step with his shoulders slumped and his head in his hands. Reluctantly I go outside and sit down beside him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He looks at me with his dark eyes intense. “You didn’t answer your phone. I’ve been calling you all night.”

My hair is still damp from my shower, and I carefully curl a lock around my finger. “I know. I didn’t want to talk…I needed to think.”

“I am so sorry about yesterday,” Royce says hoarsely. He reaches across and strokes my face, and I stiffen. “Please Rosalie…you know how much I love you. I was just angry…I didn’t mean it.”

I want to cry. His face is looking at me so sadly, his eyes pleading with me to forgive him, and I hate myself for how much I want to forgive him. I _know_ that what he did was wrong and our relationship is all kinds of screwed up, but I can’t help the way I still love him.

“Please.” Royce’s face is closer now, and he brushes his lips across mine. “I love you. You know that. I’m sorry…I would never hurt you.”

_But you did. You hurt me a lot. And every single time you said you were sorry._

I pull away. “No. I can’t…we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Royce tries to take my hands. “Rosalie, it was just temper, that’s all. We can just pretend it didn’t happen and go back to normal.”

“But it did happen, didn’t it?” My voice is shaking, and my trembling hands twist in my hair. “I think…I think we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

Royce’s face goes hard. “What are you saying?”

“Royce, we’re not good together. Maybe we can still be friends, but I can’t go out with you anymore. We need to break up,” I say softly.

“That’s a load of crap,” Royce says flatly. “We don’t need to do anything. You’re mine…and yeah, okay, maybe I need to try and keep my temper a bit better, but I can do that. You don’t need to go anywhere.”

I had known he wouldn’t make this easy, but this is harder than I thought and I have to steel myself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, but whatever you say doesn’t make any difference. I don’t want to be with you anymore, so it’s over.”

“Why? Is there someone else? God help me, Rosalie, if you’ve been seeing someone else behind my back…” Royce’s face is ugly with menace.

“There’s no one else! But it’s not working and you hurt me and I’m scared of you!” I bite my lip hard so I don’t say more. I have seen the gleam in his eyes when he spies weakness, and I don’t want to show him mine.

“But you don’t have to be,” Royce says, soft and conciliatory. “You know how much I love you and I promise I won’t ever hurt you again. We’ll work it out. You know you love me and we have a good time together- you don’t really want to throw that away over one mistake.” Confident that I’ll give in to him, Royce reaches towards me.

 “I’m pregnant!” I burst out, jerking away from his touch.

The silence is deafening. Royce’s face is suffused with rage, but when he speaks his voice is flat and emotionless.

“You stupid bitch.” He stares at me. “Get rid of it.”

My hands are shaking again, and I clasp them together so he won’t see. “No.”

“I mean it Rosalie, you are not doing this. Get rid of the fucking thing! I’ll give you the money, but you are damn well going to the clinic and fixing your mistake.”

“ _My_ mistake? I didn’t make this baby on my own you know.”

“You goddamn worthless…” Royce’s fists clench, and even though I don’t want to I instinctively cringe away from him. “You are not doing this to me. If you think this means you’re getting money from me or the old man or…”

“I’m not doing it for money! I don’t want _anything_ from you!” Tears are brimming in my eyes. “I’m breaking up with you, remember? You can just walk away if that’s what you want, and I’ll take care of the baby by myself.”

“Are you really this stupid? You’re not breaking up with me. You’re mine.”

“I’m going to have the baby,” I say quietly, trying to lower the emotional tone. “You can be as involved, or not involved, as you want. But you and me…that has to end.”

Royce is shaking his head. “No way. You want to have a baby? Fine, go ahead and have the rugrat and play mommy if that’s what gets you off. I don’t give a shit. But you are _mine_ Rosalie, and you don’t get to walk away unless I say you can.”

He sounds so determined, and inside I quail. I’m so used to giving in to him! And the idea of being alone, of raising this baby as a teenage single mother is so frightening…

_No! He hurt you, remember? He hit you, and if you don’t break up with him he’ll do it again. And maybe next time he’ll hurt the baby too._

“You can’t decide for me Royce.” I get to my feet and fold my arms tightly across my chest. “I don’t want to be with you anymore and I’m not going to change my mind. I hope we can stay friendly, and if you want to talk about the baby then we can, but that’s all it will be.”

I don’t know if he’s even listening. He’s staring at my middle, at the tell tale bulge he can see with my folded arms pulling my tshirt tight. The visible evidence, if he needed it, that I’m telling the truth.

“This isn’t all,” he says quietly. “This isn’t finished Rosalie, and don’t you pretend to yourself that it is.”

“It is over,” I say tiredly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. We’re done.” And I turn and walk back into my house, closing the door gently behind me.

It doesn’t end there though. Royce hammers on the door and screams and swears at me to open it, to talk to him, to let him in. He threatens me, and safe on my side of the door I cower, but I don’t break and give in. I wish Jasper were here, or even my dad, as I sit with my back against the wall, watching the door while tears run down my cheeks. I knew he had a temper, I knew that there was a streak of violence in him, but I hadn’t expected this and I don’t know what to now that’s happening.

I think about calling Jasper, or even the police, but I’m too ashamed to do it. I know, logically, that this isn’t my fault but I’m too embarrassed to ask for help if it means someone coming and seeing the shambles I’ve made of my life.  

In the end it’s a neighbour, fed up with all the noise and unafraid of Royce, who comes out and yells at him to go away and take his foul mouth with him or else he’ll call the police. Royce hurls a few choice words in his direction, but a few moments later I hear the roar of the engine and the squeal of tires as he takes off.

I try and breathe deeply. _It’s over now. He’s gone away, and he’ll calm down and accept that it’s over. We’ll have to talk about the baby one day, but that can wait until we’re both ready to deal with each other in a different way. It’s going to be okay. You’ve told him and that’s the hardest part._

I can’t stop the shaking, and I know I can’t be by myself right now. Despite what I keep telling myself, I’m afraid that Royce might come back and that I’ll give in to him like I always do. I need someone to talk to, someone who really loves me and can make me feel steady, can help pull me out of this quicksand of fear and uncertainty that Royce has left me floundering in. But Jasper’s phone goes straight to message bank and I don’t know where he is, so I turn to the next number. Vera. Who answers on the second ring, and whose voice is so reassuring and familiar that for a moment I can’t even talk through the tears.

“Rosalie? Rose, what is it?” Her voice is high and anxious. “What’s going on?”

“Are you at home?” I finally manage to stutter. “I need…” I can’t even finish.

“I’m at home,” Vera says. “Come over Rosalie and we’ll talk about it. Whatever it is…we’ll sort something out. Come over, I’ll be waiting.

She is waiting. Standing at the edge of the sidewalk with unwashed hair and baby spit up on her t-shirt, looking anxiously down the street for me, Vera is beautiful and I fall into her arms with a choked cry. She hugs me tight, and makes little noises of distress as she leads me tenderly into her apartment and sits me down on one end of the sofa, sitting beside me and holding my hands tightly.

“Tell me what it is.”

“It’s…I broke up with Royce…and he _hit_ me…he hurt me and I can’t do that anymore…and I’m having his baby and I’ve messed up everything…” I’m really crying now, and I don’t even know if she can understand me through my hiccupping and sobbing and snuffling. But it doesn’t matter.

“Oh god, Rosalie, you poor thing…” Vera hugs me and I bury my face in her shoulder and cry for a long time before I pull away and wipe ineffectually at my eyes with my hand.

“Here.” Vera hands me a cloth printed with bunnies. “It’s clean. Wipe your face and blow your nose and tell me about it. Royce, the baby, all of it.”

I wipe my face with the soft cloth and say dully, “You were right about him. He’s not the way he seems to be, but I was too stupid and naïve to work it out…”

“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” Vera scolds gently. “Rose, you’re one of the smartest people I know and he wanted you to see him in a particular light. He wanted you to want him.”

“There were signs I should have seen,” I whisper. “He wasn’t always good to me. He did…things. I guess I didn’t want it to be true, so I pretended it wasn’t. I pretended that it didn’t matter because he didn’t mean it and he was sorry, but then yesterday we had a fight and he…hit me. Hard.” I cup my hand over the side of my face at the memory. “I couldn’t pretend that away.”

Vera is blazing with anger. “That _asshole!_ I knew he wasn’t great, I _knew_ there was something bad going on…oh Rosalie, you poor thing,” she croons, as I lay my head down on the arm of the sofa and cover my face in an agony of shame.

“I was so stupid,” I choke. “All of it…I was just so _stupid_ , and I should have known _better_ and...”

“No, no no NO,” Vera says fiercely. “It wasn’t your fault Rosalie, you were the victim and this is all on him. He’s the one…oh, sweetie, I wish you’d told someone earlier and hadn’t been living with this all this time!”

I shake my head wearily. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t see it, and everyone always said how good we were together and how perfect it all was, and I wanted that. I wanted _him._ ” I wipe my eyes again.

Henry cries, and Vera jumps up to get him. The few minutes she takes to change his diaper give me time to compose myself, and I’m sitting up and breathing more steadily when she returns. Vera grabs a pillow and settles Henry at her breast, waiting until he’s sucking fiercely before she turns back to me.

“The other thing you said,” she says hesitantly. “Is that…?”

“I’m pregnant. And it’s his, of course.”

Vera blinks. “I don’t even know what to say. Damn…are you sure? Have you made up your mind what you’re going to do?”

 I touch Henry’s toes in his knitted elf boots. “I made up my mind a long time ago,” I say in a low voice. “I’m sixteen weeks pregnant now, and it doesn’t matter that I’m alone and scared and that Royce is the dad. Because I love my baby, and I want it, and I can make it work.”

“Well, that’s all that matters then,” Vera says stoutly, sniffing as the tears well in her eyes too. “It won’t be easy – god, how well I know that it won’t be easy! – but I’ll help you all I can. You might not have Royce, but Jasper will be the best uncle in the world, I bet.” She brushes her fingers gently across the curly dark hair of her son. “You’ll work it out Rosalie. You’ve already done the best and the hardest thing by breaking up with Royce.”

I spend the rest of the day in Vera’s safe and cosy little apartment. I play with Henry and rock him to sleep in my arms while Vera and I talk and laugh and even cry a little. Jim comes home with lunch and joins in, and when I watch how tenderly he looks at Vera and how gently and lovingly he handles the baby I know that, no matter how much it hurts, I’ve done the right thing. I can’t bear the idea of Royce treating the baby like he treated me, of doing anything that’s going to make her afraid of him. If that means I have to take care of her alone then that’s what I’ll do. But as Vera and Jim talk and laugh, I smile back at them and then think of Jasper, and I know I’m not going to be alone. Not really.

I have no idea, not even an inkling, of what’s going to happen next.


	26. Shattered

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Vera asks.

“I can run you home,” Jim offers, his arm around Vera. He kisses the side of her head. “It won’t take long.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind walking.” The night air I can feel at my back through the open door of the apartment building feels refreshingly cool after the heat of the day. “It’ll give me some time to clear my head.” The idea of a quiet walk through dim streets is very appealing after my afternoon of sobbing confessions here with Vera and all that giddy planning for the future.

“If you’re sure,” Vera says a little doubtfully.

Her arm slips around Jim’s waist and I see the smile she gives him. I can’t help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy at their relationship…how much harder will it be for me to have a baby with no second parent to help?

“I’ll be fine.” I step outside and give a little wave. “I’ve got pepper spray in my purse. I’ll call you…and thanks. For everything.”

Vera grins. “A baby isn’t an easy thing Rose, but you’ll be fine. Good luck telling Jasper and your dad though!”

I laugh as I head down the street. I’m not worried about telling Jasper, he’ll be shocked at first but I know he’ll be on my side. My dad on the other hand…he’s going to freak out. But after all the shouting and yelling is over I’m sure he’ll accept it, and he has enough money that helping me out with the necessities while I finish school won’t be a problem. I don’t want to have to ask Royce for money. Really, if I don’t bring it to Dad’s attention I doubt he’ll ever even notice that I’m pregnant, and I could probably keep a baby in the house for six months before it occurred to him to ask about it.

I take the short cut through the park, enjoying the smell of the flowers as I take the path that goes under the rose arbour. I think about next summer, when I’ll be able to come and walk here with the baby, and smile and lightly touch the swelling roundness of my belly.

_It will be worth it baby Lily…YOU will be worth it._

“Hey Rose.”

The voice comes out of the darkness and I nearly jump out of my skin with fright, grabbing at my purse and groping for the pepper spray instinctively before the person steps out from the shadows and I realise it’s only Royce. I let out my breath and relax, taking my hand out of my purse and folding my arms across my chest.

“You scared me. What are you doing here?” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.  The street lamp that should be illuminating this end of the rose arbour is broken and it’s hard to see in the darkness, but I think Royce has some of his friends with him.

“Waiting for you.” Royce steps closer to me. I can smell the alcohol, but he’s walking steadily and his voice doesn’t sound drunk.

I shake my head and begin to edge past him. “I don’t want to talk to you now Royce. I told you, I really don’t think we should see each other anymore.” I ignore the low jeers I can hear from his friends, even though my skin is starting to prickle with unease. These aren’t boys from school.

“Rosalie…”

“I mean it!” I say sharply. “I told you, I can’t do this anymore! You can’t…you have to leave me alone.”

I turn my back on him, intending to walk away, but suddenly pain explodes in my head and I feel myself yanked backwards by my hair. I scream, but then I either trip over someone’s feet or my legs are kicked out from underneath me because I’m falling. My head hits the stone wall and that’s agony beyond the burning of my scalp as my mouth fills with blood and my ears ring and my vision blurs. Royce’s face looms up in front of me and I can’t even scream as he glares at me for a moment before his mouth twists into a horrifying, gloating smile.

“And I told _you_ that you don’t get to make that choice. You don’t get to walk away from me. Y _ou’re mine until I decide I don’t want you anymore…and you’re going to be so fucking sorry that you ever tried to leave me.”_

* * *

I don’t want to wake up. It’s soft and dark and safe here, and I know that something is lurking on the edge of this enveloping nothingness, something that I don’t want…

It bites into me, wrenching me back towards consciousness. Pain snaking through my body, pounding in my head, relentless and inescapable…I whimper, and open my eyes. Surely this pain has to be a dream? But Jasper’s face drifts into the tiny field of vision I seem to have and the pain doesn’t go away, and if this is a dream it’s the living kind of nightmare.

_What happened to me?_

“Jasper?” I try to reach out to him, but I can’t move for this heavy blanket of agony that’s weighing me down. “Jas…”

He moves closer, his red-rimmed eyes focussed only on my eyes. “Rosie.”

 _Why is he calling me that? No one calls me Rosie anymore, that was the baby name my mom called me…_ I can feel the fear rising as I try to remember what happened. _Oh God, what’s wrong with me?_

“I…hurt.” I search his face for answers.

“I know, Rosie.” Jasper looks like he’s going to cry. “But you’re going to be okay.”

My head feels thick and fuzzy, a heavy thumping pain keeping time with a mechanical beeping I can hear from somewhere behind me. But I force myself to concentrate, trying to think past the pain and remember why I’m here.

_Royce. In the park. Oh no, no no no no no_

As soon as I remember the horror floods me and I wish I’d stayed in that dim place of ignorance. The pain takes on a terrible significance as the memories come rushing back and I know that nothing is ever going to be the same again. I bite back a scream as the images flash in my mind…faces in the dark, hands and fists and the heartbreaking fragility of my flesh and bone as my body is torn apart…screams and blood and _oh, they laughed…_ and the heavy boot into my belly, again and again and… _oh no, baby, no, please, not you…_ “My baby.”

I know before he says anything. My brother’s face, so familiar and beloved to me that it can hide nothing, and the gentle strength of his hand over mine as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry Rosie. The baby’s gone.”

The pain in my body is nothing to what I feel now. Grief beyond anything I’ve felt before as I breathe in the realisation that my baby is gone and it’s all my fault. I let the monster in and danced with the devil and he’s taken her away, my baby Lily…

I think I cry. Maybe it’s a scream, I don’t know. But there isn’t anything now but pain that claws at my body and my heart and pulls me down into the darkness, and I’m glad when one of the many shadows of people clustered around me does something with the tubes going into my veins and gives me the gift of sweet oblivion.

* * *

 

I blink slowly back into consciousness. The pain is still there, but there is a soft and fuzzy edge to everything now. I like it better this way.

“Rosie?” It’s Jasper, leaning close to me. “Can I get you anything?”

I’m so thirsty I can’t even squeeze words out of my dry throat. But I make a noise and flutter the fingers on my right hand, which seem to be the only part of my body that I can move, and a moment later Jasper is holding a plastic cup of blessedly cool water to my lips. I swallow, feeling it soothe away some of the rawness in my throat.

“My baby’s really gone?” I say.

“I’m sorry.” There are tears in Jasper’s eyes. “I wish I’d known.”

It’s like looking in a mirror, seeing the pain in his blue eyes, and I close my eyes so I don’t have to see. I can’t stop the tears though, and they seep out from beneath my closed lashes.

_How did I let this happen? I don’t understand…when did I become this person? How could I have been so wilfully blind to what he was capable of?_

“It was Royce.” My voice is very quiet.

Jasper doesn’t know what I mean. “Royce was the baby’s dad? I assumed so.”

 _Oh if only that were all that it was!_ “No,” I say hoarsely. “I mean, yes, it was his baby but…this. He did this. He and his friends, did this to me…”

Jasper makes an animal noise of rage and his hands grip the side of the bed so hard that the bed jolts and pain stabs through my body, but I don’t say anything. Not until he shudders, and then gives me the softest, most heartbreaking smile I’ve ever seen. “Oh, Rosalie…”

I feel like I’m drowning in the shame, because I know it’s all over and I can’t hide what has been happening in my life. _Stupid worthless fucking bitch…_ Royce’s words ring in my head. “Should’ve run the first time he hurt me…my fault Jasper…I was so stupid…”

“NO!”

I jerk back as Jasper puts both hands on either side of my face. He’s barely touching me but my skin burns, and I wish I could look away as he leans towards me. “No way Rosalie…This is _not your fault_ , get it? You didn’t do anything wrong, NOTHING.”

 _Not my fault…yeah right._ I wonder bleakly how I can tell Jasper about it, how I can make him see the way it was, but before I can even begin to translate thought into words a nurse comes into the room and I have to face things.

“You’re awake, that’s great. How are you feeling? What’s your pain level at?” She checks the readouts on the monitors they’ve got attached to me and gives me a smile. “The doctors have you on iv painkillers and we’ll keep that going for twenty four hours or so. Let me know if it gets bad.”

A doctor comes in next and Jasper half rises from his seat, but I’m suddenly and irrationally terrified by all these strangers who want to look at me and talk to me, and I grab at his hand. “Please…” I choke. _Please don’t leave me alone!_

Jasper’s fingers close around my hand, warm and reassuring. “It’s okay Rose.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he holds my hand as the doctor shines lights in my eyes and asks me questions and talks to me. I listen at first, as the brutality of what Royce and his friends did is translated into emotionless, clinical language. Fractured skull, fractured cheek, broken arm, broken fingers, cracked ribs, fractured hand, ruptured spleen…they’ve had me in surgery and removed my spleen and given me blood transfusions. Then he’s saying other things, and these are words I don’t want to hear, not about me, not about my baby… _trauma induced abortion…gynaecological repair and hysterectomy…unfortunate…very sorry._

 _No._ I stare at him blankly and nod, but I’m not listening. _I don’t want to hear this, this didn’t happen to me, this isn’t my reality, I won’t let it be…_

He goes away, eventually, that doctor with his horrible words. But I don’t get to relax, because now it’s the police, accompanied by my dad, and this is worse because they are not telling me things but are asking for me to tell them. They want me to take all that pain and horror and shame and make it public.

The woman police officer takes the seat beside Jasper and leans towards me. Detective Cortez, she says her name is. Katherine. She is soft spoken and respectful of me, and I wonder drearily how many times she has asked these questions of violated girls.

“You say you know who attacked you?”

“My…I broke up with him, this morning, but he was my boyfriend. Royce.”

I feel the slight pressure of Jasper’s hand and the tiny start of surprise. I hadn’t told him that I was going to break up with Royce.

_There are so many things I didn’t tell you, Jasper. I’m sorry._

“It was him and some of his friends.” I can’t breathe deeply because of my broken ribs, and I feel like I’m slowly suffocating.

“What the fuck?!” Dad bangs his fist onto the bed. He’s so angry he’s shaking. “You can’t be serious, Rose…”

“Dad…” Jasper tries to placate him.

“That little bastard, I’ll kill him!” Dad rages. “For fuck’s sake, he…”

“Mr Hale, please. You need to calm down, you’re not helping your daughter.” The other cop, Detective Evans, steps closer to my dad.

“That fucker has been in our house! He took her to the fucking prom! And now he’s gone and nearly killed her and shared her with his friends like some kind of whore?”

I turn my head away, feeling the tears burn again and trying to take in more air with the shallow breaths that are all I can manage. Detective Evans takes dad from the room, and for a long moment there is only silence.

“Fathers sometimes have a difficult time coping when their daughters…” Detective Cortez’ voice fades away as I roll my head to look at her.

I would frown, but my face feels so swollen and the skin so stretched that I can’t move my eyebrows. I wonder with a crawling sense of dread what I must look like, and I fight the urge to touch my face.

“Rosalie, I’m going to need you to tell me as much as you can remember about the attack,” Detective Cortez says gently. “I know it will be difficult, but tell me everything that comes to mind, even if you think it’s not important. Why don’t you start with where you were this evening, and how you ended up in the park?”

I talk, my voice hoarse from my raw throat. I hold Jasper’s hand tightly in one of mine, staring at the brace and bandages that encase my other hand as it lies uselessly on the bed. They broke bones in my hand and three of my fingers, but it’s too swollen for the doctors to cast it just yet. They haven’t ruled out surgery to pin it all back together.

I talk, slowly and sometimes hesitantly as I tell about visiting Vera and leaving to walk home. Taking the short cut through the park and meeting Royce there. Being afraid and grabbing for the pepper spray but dropping it back into my bag because after all, it was only Royce… _oh, you’re as stupid as he said you were!_

I talk, my voice flat and distant as I tell about what they did to me. I tell her about the rape. The rapes, because after Royce was done he let his friends have a turn too. The detective wants details, and she asks questions that make me writhe with shame as I answer them. I can’t look at Jasper, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him again, but it’s his steadfast presence at my side, his warm hand around mine, that gives me the strength to continue.

I talk, stumbling over the words as I articulate the violence. The way they hit, the fists slamming into my vulnerable flesh, and the way they held me down so I couldn’t protect myself as the heavy boot sank deep into my belly again and again and again. I couldn’t fight back and I couldn’t run and worst of all, I couldn’t protect _her._

I talk, until there’s no more to say because I’ve put into words the fear and pain and horror of what was done to me. Detective Cortez asks her questions and teases out the brutal details, and I talk until I feel violated all over again by being made to share this.

“Thank you Rosalie, you did very well.” Detective Cortez taps her pencil on her notebook and looks at me thoughtfully. “Can you tell me why you think he did this?”

I stare at her. _Why he would do this? Because he believes he owns me, and I was stupid enough not to take that seriously? Because I wanted the baby and he hates anything that might take me away from him? Because I defied him about the baby and walked away, and he is too arrogant and proud to let me think that I’d won?_

“He was angry that I tried to break up with him,” I say dully. “He was furious about the baby, and even angrier that I thought I could make a decision about it. He’s used to having it all his way…he wouldn’t like it that I stood up against him.” I close my eyes.

“Has he hurt you before?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I don’t want to remember this. “Please…isn’t this enough now? Can’t we stop?”

“We can stop for now,” Detective Cortez says gently. “You’ve done well Rosalie. We’ll talk again soon.”

I don’t open my eyes. I listen to the sound of her feet on the linoleum floor as she walks from the room, hearing the click of the door latch as she opens it and then the louder thud as it closes. I hold Jasper’s hand in mine, the warm pressure of his fingers keeping me anchored here instead of spiralling away into the dark memories of what brought me here.


	27. What He Made Me.

I don’t ever want to open my eyes. I don’t want to have to face the fact that this is now a world where my belly is empty and my baby is gone.

_Baby Lily…I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe._

But gradually I become aware of another sensation amongst all the aching, stabbing, burning pains that are plaguing my body from head to toe. A much more mundane feeling, but one that for a moment I can’t even imagine how I will manage to take care of it. I need to go to the bathroom.

I open my eyes and look at Jasper. “Can you help me get up? I need the bathroom.”

Jasper looks almost panicked, and his eyes flick to my blanket covered body. “Should I call the nurse? I don’t know…are you allowed? Just let me call someone.”

Since I doubt they want me to pee in the bed I assume I _am_ allowed to get up, but I can’t do it without help so I wait while Jasper presses the call button to summon the nurse.

It’s a different nurse this time, and her identity tag says Rashida. I have time to look at it as she leans over me and unhooks some of the power cords tethering the machines I’m attached to. “You can get up, but you’ll need to take it real slow and be careful. Do you want to wait outside?”

This last is directed at Jasper, but before he can even move my grip tightens convulsively around his hand. The thought of being alone is terrifying. “No Jasper, please…don’t leave me.” My voice is shaking.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me,” Jasper says steadily, and he moves forward to stand closer to the bed as Rashida finds the controller and raises me to a sitting position.

“We need to swing your legs around to the side,” Rashida says, as though I don’t even know how to get out of bed. “It’s going to hurt – I’m sorry about that – but let’s see how you go.”

I think I’m going to die. For a moment I wish I would. The pain, as I manage to bring my legs around and hang them off the side of the bed, rips through my body without mercy. My ribs, my aching head, my face, my fingers, my belly, my legs, my pelvis, my vulva…I couldn’t say what hurts most. But I bite my lip so I don’t cry out and then I force myself to keep moving until I’m finally on my feet, swaying with the pain but upright. I’m so caught by the intense pain everywhere else that I don’t even realise that I’m crying until I feel the tears stinging as they run down my cheeks.

“Good job,” Rashida says. “Now we just need to walk over to the bathroom. Just over there…you can do it.”

Jasper is silent as he pulls the edge of the hospital gown back on to my shoulder. I think maybe it’s not tied properly and anyone will be able to see me through the gap in it, but the pain is so strong that I don’t have any attention to spare for a small feeling like air on bare skin right now. Instead I try and take in more air as I shuffle towards the bathroom. But the pain keeps clawing at me, and without any warning I gag and throw up, something dark and sticky and horrible coming out of my mouth and splattering on the floor.

I don’t say anything. I can’t think about anything but putting one foot in front of the other, not even lifting them so much as sliding them along the cool floor, each dragging shuffle bringing me closer to the bathroom.

It feels like it takes an hour, but finally I’ve made it across the few feet of hospital room to the bathroom. I take a few more shallow, gasping breaths and automatically turn my head to the side, where there's a mirror, but what I see there snaps the tiny thread of control that’s holding me together and I scream.

_That can’t be me! Not that hideous battered thing, that can’t be me…what have they done to me? Oh god, what’s going to happen to me…_

But I know it’s me.

Feeling dizzy with the horror of it I moan. “Oh God, Jas…” Before I can say more the nausea rises in my gut and once again I vomit, helpless against the vagaries of my body. The heaving of my stomach sends bolts of agony through me and instinctively I grab at Jasper, but I forget that my hand is broken and now everything feels like it’s on fire. I scream again, sobbing, all control gone in this blinding, inescapable haze of pain.

“I can’t…god, it hurts so much! Make it stop…oh shit…”

“It’s okay Rosie, it’s okay…” Jasper hugs me, but even his gentle touch feels like another blow on my battered boy and I cringe away, blinded by tears.

Rashida touches my shoulders and guides me over to the toilet where I sit down, dropping my head forward so that my hair falls around me. I want to block out the world, but the pain is too strong and I just sit there with my head down and tearing stinging my face and dripping off my chin and try not to scream.

“Are you okay Rosalie?” It’s another voice now, another nurse, as I see when I lift my head. “Have you peed?”

I shake my head, a tiny little twitch because that’s all I can manage.

“Okay hon, try. It might sting a little, leaning forward a bit might help that.”

She’s right. It stings, and the memory of what they did makes my chest tight with terror. I’m afraid to ask what damage they’ve left behind them.

Stacey, the second nurse, smiles at me kindly. “Done? Good. Rashida and I are going to help you have a shower now, clean you up and wash your hair. Your dad’s bought some clothes in for you, so you’ll be a little more comfortable after we do all that.”

I let her help me to my feet, and I do nothing as she gently peels the vomit spattered nightgown away from my body. I can’t help looking though, peering down at a body I don’t even recognise as my own with the way the bruising and swelling is distorting it. There are gauze dressings in a few places on my belly, and a bite mark deep in my breast that makes my stomach heave.

_That’s not me. I don’t look like that. I have long legs and a flat, muscled belly and my skin is smooth and unmarked. I’m strong and graceful and everyone always tells me how pretty I am. Do these nurses know that? Do they know that I’m beautiful? But they can’t possibly know, because I don’t know them and all they can see is what Royce has made me into._

I stand, swaying with exhaustion and pain, as the two nurses use the hand-held shower spray. On my bruised and beaten and torn flesh the water feels like a thousand tiny knives, and I close my eyes again and whimper hopelessly. Strength, grace, dignity…I have nothing left.

“I’m sorry hon, I know it hurts,” Stacey says sympathetically. “We’re being as quick as we can.” Her hands in my hair, shampooing out the dirt and blood that have stained it, are gentle but it still nearly brings to my knees.

I hear a noise at the door, a moan that in my confusion I think is me. But it’s Jasper, staring at me with a mix of heartbreak and horror in his blue eyes, and for the first time in my life I’m ashamed to have someone see me naked.

_Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me, because all you’ll see is what they did to me, and I don’t want to be that thing._

I’m reeling on my feet with pain and exhaustion by the time the shower is done. Stacey and Rashida work together, quietly patting me dry and combing out my long damp hair, changing the damp and sticky wound dressings for clean ones. They talk to me in gentle, soothing tones as they dress me like a small child, Rashida holding me up while Stacey kneels down and helps me raise one foot at a time to slip into my underpants and fleece pyjama pants, physically moving my arms for me as they pull a grey tank top over my head.

“I’ve put a pad in your undies,” Stacey tells me. “You’ll have some bleeding and discharge for a few days or a few weeks because of the hysterectomy, and you can’t wear tampons. We’ll leave a bunch of pads in the bathroom for you, although if you prefer a different brand to the hospital ones you can get your dad to bring you some.”

She and Rashida exchange glances, and I can almost feel their pity. I avert my eyes from the mirror as I shuffle after them out of the bathroom. How did it come to this? When have I ever been someone that other people feel sorry for? I’m Rosalie, and I’m popular and beautiful and perfect…

Except I’m not, now.

Rashida lowers the bed further, and I ease myself into a sitting position. It’s like sitting on knives, and I move awkwardly to try and ease the pain. Jasper comes over and takes my feet and helps me bring my legs up onto the bed, until I’m sitting back on the bed, breathing in shallow, whimpering pants. There is no way to sit that doesn’t hurt.

“It’s okay,” Jasper tells me, his voice rough. I can tell he’s been crying. “You’re going to be fine, Rosalie.”

I shake my head, and once again the tears begin sliding endlessly down my cheeks. “The baby… _my baby_ …there is no okay Jasper, not anymore.” And I lie my head back on the pillow and lay one hand gently over the swollen, throbbing place in my belly where my baby should be and let the tears fall, wishing I could die.

“I’m giving you more morphine,” Rashida says, plugging the iv back into the wall socket and pressing buttons. She makes some marks on the chart. “Are you hungry? You probably need to try and eat something, but you’ve got a badly bruised jaw and several loose teeth which is going to make chewing difficult…I’ll see what I can rustle up.” She finds the controller and hooks it on to the side of the hospital bed. “You’ve got your call button here, and the tv. Please call out if you need anything.” She makes eye contact with Jasper, and he nods and mumbles an affirmation. Then she leaves the room and it’s once again just the two of us.

For a long time, there’s only silence. Jasper sits by the bed, his head bowed into his hands, while I lie back and stare at the ceiling through tears, every heartbeat bringing a fresh throbbing pain somewhere in my body. But the morphine does its job and I begin once again to feel that slightly fuzzy, floaty sense of detachment and the pain retreats a little.

“I was going to call her Lily,” I say drowsily.

Jasper chokes back a sob as he raises his face, looking at me with haunted eyes. “Like Mom.”

“Yeah. I think she would have liked that. I mean, not me having a baby in high school but…baby Lily.”

Jasper smiles a little, and holds my hand. “It’s a pretty name.”

“I was going to have an abortion.” My thoughts ramble and I let the words flow, knowing I’m safe here with Jasper no matter what I tell him. “I even went to the clinic…but I couldn’t do it. Changed my mind and thought I had to have her. I didn’t tell Royce though. I knew he wouldn’t want her, and I just wanted to keep her safe…I couldn’t do it Jas. I couldn’t keep her safe, and now she’s gone and I have nothing…”

Jasper shakes his head, struggling to hold back his emotion. “I’m sorry Rosie, I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I slur. “It’s mine. I do everything wrong. People think I’m perfect, but really I ruin everything."

I can’t bear to look at him, to see my own pain and horror and fear reflected in his face, so I roll my aching head until I can see out the window, and stare at the faraway patch of blue sky until my eyes blur.

I sleep away the rest of the day, and in sleep I find an escape from the pain and a way to avoid the tidal wave of grief threatening to overwhelm me. The nurses wake me periodically, checking on my vital signs and giving me more of the drugs that make the pain retreat and my reality blur. I know, deep inside, that I’m only delaying the inevitable and that soon I will have to engage with my new, much darker reality but, for now, I let myself sink into oblivion.


	28. Like a Victim

It’s night time when I finally wake up properly. My room is only dimly illuminated from the lighting in the hall, and the sounds from the nurses’ station sound dim and far away. I can’t ignore my need to go to the bathroom and so, slowly and agonisingly, I struggle to stand up from the bed and make it the few feet to the bathroom.

I don’t look at the mirror. Not that it matters- the image of myself that I saw earlier has burned itself into my brain and I know I’ll never forget it. I keep my head averted and let my hair fall across my face, even though it smells unpleasantly like a mix of unfamiliar cheap shampoo and hospital bed linen.

I don’t hear him come in. I open the bathroom door, expecting the room to be as empty as it was when I left it, but it’s not. Instead there’s a person, tall and broad shouldered, standing at the end of my bed with my chart in his hands, and as he hears the noise of the bathroom door he turns to face me.

The panic hits hard, closing out everything but this sudden perceived threat. I’m swamped by feelings of terror, and the adrenaline flooding my system masks the pain in my ribs enough that I can gasp in a big enough breath to scream.

“Whoa Rosalie, I’m Samuel…”

“No!” I scream again, but fear is tightening around my chest like iron bands, and then I can’t scream and I can’t breathe either. The iv pole clashes into the wall as I stumble backwards, distorted flashes of last night in the park flickering in my head.

_Pain oh my head no oh my god don’t please don’t that hurts why stop it stop it no no no_

The lights flip on and the room is bright, but I’m beyond controlling myself. There are other voices and other people, but their touch feels like blows and I curl into myself on the cold bathroom floor, struggling to breathe in great sobbing gasps.

“Rosie, Rosie, come on look at me…”

There’s a voice I know. Jasper. _Jasper will help me, he won’t let them hurt me he’ll make it stop…_

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Rose…”

I open my eyes, struggling to focus with eyes blurred by tears, my heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. But I can see enough that I see Jasper, crouched beside me in clean jeans and t-shirt, his hair damp and his blue eyes wide.

“I…can’t…he…” I want to tell him what happened, but I can’t get the words out. Looking up I see several people behind Jasper, including the man that I saw at the end of my bed. But as my terror recedes I see that he’s wearing the same polo shirt with the hospital logo embroidered on the chest and has the same id tags as the morning nurses. He’s a nurse. “I didn’t…I….”

“It’s okay,” Jasper says again. “You’re okay. You need to get back into bed, that’s all.”

“Rosalie?” It’s the male nurse, crouching down beside Jasper. “I’m so sorry about this…I’m Samuel, your nurse tonight. I’m so sorry I frightened you.”

His smile is kind, but I close my eyes in defeated humiliation. This is just one indignity on top of another, and for a moment I wish that Royce had finished the job and killed me in the park.

“Rosie, we have to get you back to bed,” Jasper says quietly. “There’s some blood on your top and they think you might have ripped some of your stitches.”

“Can I help you get up, Rosalie?” Samuel asks. “I don’t have to, if you’d rather someone else, but if it’s okay I’ll help you back to bed.”

I nod, struggling to rise and realising that I’m not going to be able to get up off the floor without help. I don’t care if he touches me, he’s a nurse doing his job, and I don’t flinch as he gently and respectfully helps support my weight as I struggle to stand up and shuffle back to bed.

There is blood on my tank top, seeping through from underneath, and when I’m back in bed and have been given a drink of water and some more painkillers Samuel asks if he can look at it. I can’t stop the tears that are running down my cheeks, but I grip the hem of my top and raise it high enough to reveal the bloodstained dressing on my upper belly, just below my ribs.

“You’ve popped a couple of stitches,” Samuel says. “It’s not too bad- if I get some tape I can fix it up.” He hesitates. “Is that okay? Look, I am really sorry about what happened…I don’t normally work with uh….patients like you, they usually try and keep the nurses female, but they’re really short staffed. If you’d rather one of the girls do the fix up job…”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say dully. “I’m sorry I freaked out. It wasn’t you, it was just…” Just what? Just that the sight of you in my room triggered something and I was back in the park?

Samuel leaves the room and Jasper comes closer from where he’s been leaning against the window sill. He looks tired and strained.

“Where were you?” I don’t mean to sound accusing, but it comes out sounding desperate.

Jasper swallows. “I went home for a little while. Dad was here with some dinner and you were sound asleep, so I went home with him. I thought I’d have a shower and bring you back some more stuff.” He indicates the stuffed backpack over by the wall. “I’m sorry. I would have told you but I didn’t want to wake you. I didn’t mean…god Rose, I’m sorry.” There’s a pulse beat jumping in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper tiredly. “You don’t have to stay.”

Jasper shakes his head. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Samuel comes back and I once again lift my shirt up over my bruised and bloated belly so he can go to work with his antiseptic wash and tape and bandages. “This is where they took out your spleen,” he says conversationally. “You’ve only popped a couple of stitches, I think the tape will hold it fine while I heals, but I guess the doctor can take a look at it tomorrow.” He works quickly, talking in an effort to distract me, but in reality it’s not that bad. The painkillers are kicking in, and his gloved hands feel safely impersonal.

At the same time as it reassures me, I find it unusual and almost unnerving that he doesn’t see me as a girl. I’m a person, a patient, a collection of injuries and incisions and medical problems to him…but I’m not the beautiful girl that everyone else has always seen. The bruising and swelling overshadow anything about me that was ever pretty, and all I can think about as I look down at the purple and black and blue that colours my bare belly is that I look like a victim.

Another nurse comes in with a small carton of milk, a tub of yoghurt and two little plastic containers of Jello and icecream. She pulls the table over the bed and puts the food down with a smile. “Your dad said you had no food allergies, is that correct?”

“Yes.” I look at the food without interest. “I’m not hungry.”

“We’d like you to try and eat something anyway,” the nurse says. “It’s important that you keep up your strength- your body has a lot of work to do to heal itself and you’ll need the fuel. I know that it might hurt so I’ve given you soft snacks tonight, and put in an order with catering to have soft foods for you tomorrow.”

With my lower jaw swollen and aching, the fractured cheekbone that screams at me every time there’s any pressure on my upper jaw and the loosened teeth, I can’t chew. I’m not sure it matters, since my stomach is rebelling at the thought of food. But Jasper takes the milk and unwraps the straw and inserts it into the carton for me, and I silently accept it and gingerly take a sip.

The milk is cold and more soothing on my broken mouth and raw throat than anything else has been. Normally I wouldn’t drink milk without Oreos or gobs of peanut butter to go with it but it tastes good today and helps take the coppery taste of blood out of my mouth for a little while.

“Good job,” the nurse says approvingly, and I would roll my eyes if everything didn’t hurt so much.

_Seriously? I’m so pathetic now that I’m congratulated because I drank some milk?_

I don’t say anything though, and as the two nurses leave Jasper takes the lids off the other tubs and holds out the little plastic spoon. “What first?” he asks with false cheer.

The yoghurt’s acidity stings my mouth too much to eat more than a spoonful, but the creamy frozen sweetness of the ice cream melts on my tongue and slips down easily. I don’t touch the Jello, and after checking with me Jasper borrows the spoon and eats it and the rest of the yoghurt.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” he asks. “The nurses said it’s fine- this chair folds down into a bed and they’ll find me a pillow and a blanket.”

There’s no way that the six foot plus Jasper is going to fit comfortably on a tiny fold out chair-bed, but I’m too selfish not to jump at his offer. I don’t want to be alone. I nod, and then without meaning to lift my hand and touch my face.

The skin feels so tight and hot over the swelling on my cheek and jaw that I’m afraid just the pressure of my fingers touching it might be too much and it will split. Up against my hairline there is a wound they’ve stitched, and the scratchiness of the thread they used contrasts sharply with the softness of my hair. My lower lip is split and feels dry and crusted with scabs, and as I explore the unfamiliar terrain with my hands I remember how it looked in the mirror.

Jasper is watching me, his face unreadable.

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” I say softly.

He nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s not great.” His eyes glimmer with tears as he chokes out. “I just want to fucking kill him Rose, I look at you and I could…”

“Don’t.” I reach towards him, stopping sharply as the pain in my ribs seizes me. “Don’t.”

Jasper takes a deep breath. “Right. I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you.”

I lean back carefully against the bed. “I can’t think about him right now. If I do…I don’t know if I can stand it, you know? I’m scared that if I think about him then I start thinking about what happened and what they did to the baby and how much I’ve lost and…I don’t know how to live with that, Jas. I don’t know…it’s like it’s all broken, everything, and I don’t know how to put myself back together…” I can’t talk anymore for the lump in my throat.

Jasper takes my hand and gives me a crooked smile. “I think I kind of know…it’ll be okay though Rose. You’ll get through it.”

We sit in silence for a moment before he jumps up and goes to the backpack. “I bought you your phone,” he says, digging it out of the front pocket. “The police had it, but it’s not evidence so I got it back. I charged it too. And I’ve got your laptop so we can hook into the hospital’s wifi, and your e-reader and some more clothes. Dad bought some stuff earlier but….well, I thought you’d find some yoga pants and t-shirts and regular underwear more comfortable to sit around the hospital in than what he brought for you.”

His face is slightly pink, and for the first time since I woke up I want to laugh. Jasper and I take it in turns to do laundry and he mocks me mercilessly about what he calls my ‘stripper underwear’. I think it’s funny that he’s embarrassed mentioning the regular cotton bikini knickers he’s bought in for me.

“Thanks,” I say simply, taking my phone and turning it on. It lights up and immediately starts beeping at me, telling me about my missed calls and messages and texts and emails. I look at the missed called and see that there are eleven from Royce, and I immediately turn the phone off and put it down on the bedside table with a shaking hand. “Not now,” I say softly to Jasper.

Jasper takes the phone and looks at the list, his lips tight. “I’ll delete them for you?” he offers, but I shake my head.

“No…I’ll listen to them later. Maybe.”

Jasper nods and then pulls out my laptop and sets it up on the bed table. “Let’s watch some tv….I’ve got the first eight seasons of the Simpsons on there for you, and that’ll take a while to get through.”


	29. Still Hurting Me

The next morning starts early, when my shallow and restless sleep is interrupted by the clipped, accented tones of a doctor saying my name. Reluctantly I open my eyes, becoming aware of the pain that still has me in its grip.

“Rosalie? Good morning, I am Dr Abjira.” He holds out a hand and I blankly give him my good hand and shake his. “I am the OB-GYN who performed your surgery. I apologise for waking you, but I have a full day of surgery scheduled and I wished to check on you first. I wanted to make sure the healing process is progressing well and answer any questions you may have for me.”

Stacey the nurse is back too, and she smiles at as she gives him my chart and updates him on my condition.

On the folded out bed Jasper blinks into life too, and sits up with his hair looking wild and rumpled. He makes a face at me and stretches, and I hear his joints popping.

“May I?” Dr Abjira asks politely, indicating my belly. I tense up but nod, and he lifts my shirt and peels back the dressings to examine them.

“These are good,” he pronounces. “This one, the spleen, a different surgeon did that but it looks as it should. The broken stitches should cause no problems. The other wounds on your abdomen are from the laparoscopes we used to investigate your uterus and then to guide the hysterectomy procedure.” His dark eyes on me are very direct. “I wish to say that I am very sorry that it came to that. A hysterectomy on such a young woman is an unhappy outcome, but in your case it truly could not be helped. The loss of blood was too extreme, and it was a matter of life and death. But even so, I am sorry.”

His words are like a punch in the gut, taking my breath away as reality crashes down on me. It _wasn’t_ a dream and I can’t pretend that it is…not only is my precious baby gone, but so too is the chance that there will ever be another. “The baby…” I say, my voice low. “Did you…”

“The baby was birthed in the ambulance,” Dr Abjira says. His words are direct, but his voice is gentle. “I believe you were not conscious at the time. It was a girl, approximately sixteen weeks gestation or perhaps a little more. Apparently normal development.” For a moment he hesitates, and then holds out a cupped hand. “She was about this big,” he says to me. “Head to toe, about as long as my hand. A normal, healthy female foetus, but again, there was nothing we could do. I am sorry.”

I see the shock on Jasper’s face as he does the math and realises that I was almost four months pregnant. I blink hard, trying to stop the tears from falling.

A girl… _oh baby Lily, it really was you._

“I’m afraid I must do a pelvic examination,” Dr Abjira says apologetically. “There was much trauma to the area and some stitching was required. It is important that we ensure no infection sets in.”

Stacey pats my leg encouragingly. “Okay with that, hon? How about Jasper waits outside and I’ll hold your hand through it?”

Jasper waits until I nod, and then almost bolts from the room. He’s about as supportive as a brother can be, but even he has limits.

My heart pounds as the bed reclines and Stacey tugs off my pyjama pants and underwear. I start to sweat as they help me bend my knees and open my legs, and I can’t hold back the high pitched whimper that escapes as I feel gloved hands touching me.

“Just relax Rosalie,” Stacey says soothingly, holding my hand. “It’s going to be over in just a minute, and then we can find you some breakfast. We’ve asked them for something soft that you won’t have to chew, like shredded wheat or applesauce. How will you like that? There’s always milk and yoghurt available…”

I know she’s talking to distract me from what’s happening between my legs, but it doesn’t work. All I can feel is his gloved fingers prodding and probing into my private places, which are all swollen and sore. The nausea rises in my throat in an unstoppable wave and I turn my head to the side and vomit. “Stop,” I gasp. “Don’t…no more.” I jerk away from his touch, and Dr Abjira steps away from me, pulling the sheet back to cover my bare legs and then snapping off his rubber gloves and tossing them in the trash.

“It is fine,” he tells me, in his precise accent. “The area looks clean and there is no more additional swelling that may indicate a problem. I have had much experience in repairing that kind of tearing, usually associated with childbirth, and expect it to heal very well. You must abstain from sexual intercourse for six weeks and then have a check up, but after that I would anticipate no further physical difficulties. I understand you have a regular gynaecologist, so I will forward copies of the surgical reports to her and she will do the follow up examinations and advise you.”

I close my eyes wearily. _Physical difficulties…maybe not, but god knows what the emotional fall out from this is going to be._ My mouth is burning with the acid bile I’ve just vomited and I can’t imagine that I will ever want to have sex again. “Okay,” I mutter.

Dr Abjira says a few other words and then disappears from my life. Stacey grabs a mop and a roll of paper towel and gets to work cleaning up the vomit that’s puddled on the bed and dripping down the side to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice tiny. I am embarrassed by my helplessness and mortified over all the personal things people have to do for me.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stacey says cheerfully. “Happens all the time.”

Jasper approaches with a cold face washer, raising the bed until I’m sitting and then giving it to me so I can clean my face. After that he and Stacey help me off the bed and into some clean pyjamas, fleecy pants with stars on them and a blue thermal, and then I shuffle into the bathroom while the bed sheets are changed. Jasper brought me my toothbrush last night, so I brush my teeth as best I can, avoiding the worst spots of pain and spitting out toothpaste foam turned red with blood despite how gentle I am.

My breakfast has arrived once I shuffle out. Much less welcome are the police officers, Detectives Cortez and Evans that I recognise from yesterday, and a third person holding a camera bag who have also arrived and are filling up all the spare space in the room.

“Good morning Rosalie, how are you today?”

“Okay.” My good hand grips the iv pole tighter, and I hold the other hand in the brace close against my chest. What do they want now?

I find out soon enough. The third person is a police photographer, here to take photographic evidence of my assault to be used in a prosecution.

I want to scream. Is there no end to the humiliation? To the ways Royce can still hurt me? What Royce and his friends did to me in the park was horrible, and yet I’m starting to realise that it was only the beginning of the dehumanising, embarrassing experiences I have to endure because of it.

But I can’t say no. Once again Jasper waits outside, with detective Evans, while Detective Cortez and the photographer who introduces herself simply as Lina take photos to document the brutality I’ve endured. The cuts and bruises on my face, the stitches in my head, the bite mark on my breast, the deep black and purple bruising low on my belly, where they kicked and beat the baby right out of me. They take photos of the bruises everywhere else, the grazes and cuts on my back, and the handprints and purple finger marks on my skin where they held me down. Sometimes they use a measuring tape to give scale. I don’t look unless they tell me to face the camera. Instead I stare over their heads, hearing the click of the camera and blinking in the light of the flash, and remember.

“I don’t think was the kind of modelling Mom had in mind for me,” I say to Jasper with a grimace as he helps me back to bed.

His face spasms, but he chuckles weakly anyway. Both of us are trying, desperately, to find any semblance of normal.

But normal seems further away than ever when the police start talking. Once again Detective Cortez takes the lead, sitting on the opposite side of the bed to Jasper and looking earnestly at my face as she talks. Her voice is quiet and kind, but it makes no difference when what she tells me has the world falling out from under my feet.  

They’ve arrested Royce and his friends, but they haven’t confessed what they did. They’ve admitted to having sex with me, but they’ve said that I wanted it and that I was always doing things like that with them…they’ve lied and made up so much that I’m stunned as I listen to it. Surely no one could believe this! But the police are looking serious and then they tell me there are photos and Detective Evan steps forward with a small tablet device and shows me.

I can’t breathe as I use my good hand to flick through the photos, the nausea rising in my belly as I see the series of images. They’ve been taken on a phone - obscene pictures of me, doing things…being _forced_ to do things, but framed in such a way that you can’t see my face, or my hair is falling across it and obscuring my tears, and a mouth open in a scream that could be something else if you just look at it… _No, no, no, oh god, no no no, please don’t do this, no no NO NONONONO._

“Do you agree that the photos are you?” Detective Evans says.

I shake my head, not because the photos aren’t me, but because I can’t believe any of this is happening. “It’s me, but I didn’t know…I would never…” My voice is shaking.

“What the hell?” Jasper takes one look and snatches the device out of my hands, thrusting it back towards the detectives. There are two burning spots of colour in his pale cheeks. “You can’t be serious…that is fucking _proof_. You cannot believe any bullshit story he’s telling you…just _look at her!_ ” Jasper’s voice is shaking too, but with rage instead of terror.

“We understand,” Detective Cortez says. “Of course we believe Rosalie’s account. But rape is a difficult crime to prosecute and with things like these photographs muddying the waters, and much of the physical evidence being compromised by the immediate surgery, we’ve got a few hoops to jump through to make a solid case.”

I’m speechless at the unfairness, and Jasper’s voice is expressionless with shock. “He’s going to get away with it?”

“No,” Detective Cortez jumps in quickly. “We’re not saying that. Rosalie’s statement is compelling and the physical injuries are extensive. Parts of the rape kit will be compromised because of the immediate surgery, but we do have evidence against them and they have been officially charged. However you need to be prepared for what’s coming.”

“The Kings have hired a lawyer and they intend to fight this,” Detective Evans says bluntly. “He’s out on bail…”

Despite the pain, I jerk violently back against the pillows, cowering in sudden, abject terror. “No! He can’t be…he’s…he’ll hurt me again…Jasper…”

The two detectives exchange glances as Jasper grabs my good hand and holds it tight. “He won’t Rosalie, no one’s going to let him get near you.”

But Royce looms large in my imagination, and I can’t even speak for the fear. Don’t they know? Don’t they understand that he thinks he owns me, that he always does whatever he wants and gets whatever he wants? He wanted me and he got me, he didn’t want me to be pregnant and now my baby is gone… I huddle into myself and bite down on my poor, abused lip because only the pain is strong enough to keep me from losing control.

“Part of the bail conditions were that he wear an ankle monitor, and also that he’s not allowed within five hundred feet of you or your home,” Detective Cortez says reassuringly. “If he breaks the conditions he’ll be back in jail until the trial. We do recommend that you follow some security precautions. Hospital visitors must check in with the nurses’ station and we’ve advised them not to let anyone back to see you without checking with you first. When you go home, keep doors and windows locked and follow usual safety precautions.”

“The house is alarmed,” Jasper says.

“He knows the code,” I say numbly.

“We’ll change it,” Jasper is brusque. “I’ll do it myself first thing when I get home. He’s not going to touch you again Rose.”

“There’s one other thing.” Detective Evans clears his throat. “The Kings are demanding a paternity test for the foetus.”

“ _Baby_ ,” I say through gritted teeth. “She was my _baby_ …she was _his_ baby. I never had sex with anyone else but Royce. Not ever…”

_Not until he made me._

Detective Cortez shoots a glance at her partner and then looks at me sympathetically. “They want a paternity test for the baby Rosalie, and they’ll get a subpoena if they have to. It’s something your legal team will want too though, so if you sign for permission now it’ll all happen faster and that might be easier for you.”

“Whatever,” I say dully. “I don’t care.” All I can think of is my baby and where she might be now, and how surprised I am by the depth of pain I feel because Royce is denying her. I scribble my name on the paper they give me without reading it, and soon after the two of them leave.


	30. A 'Good' Outcome

I spend much of the day drifting in and out of sleep. Sometimes I wake with tears on my face and Jasper touches my hand and comforts me without words. Dad comes for lunch and brings me peanut brittle- I don’t know whether to be touched that he remembers it’s my favourite or despairing because he’s forgotten that I can’t eat anything that’s not liquefied.

In the afternoon I wake again when an orderly carries in a large flower arrangement. I see the way he blanches when he sees my face and I say nothing as he places the flowers carefully on the tray table and leaves. The heavy scent of the blooms drift through the room, overlaying the harsh scent of hospital bleach and the slightly sickening scent of blood that still hangs over me. Jasper reaches into the arrangement and withdraws the florist card.

 “Thinking of you and sending all our love. From Esme, Carlisle, Emmett, Edward and Alice Cullen,” he reads out. “Well, that’s nice I guess.”

I push the tray table away. “How do they know I’m here?” I mutter.

Jasper looks at me carefully. “Dad called Dr Cullen. He’s got connections with the hospital here, and Dad wanted to make sure he had all the information, and see if he needed to get specialists in for you or whatever.”

I feel sick. “I don’t want him talking about this to anyone. I don’t want anyone to know.”

Jasper’s face twitches and he makes a fist so quickly that his knuckles crack, but then he takes a deep breath and turns away.

“What?” I demand. “Jasper…what?” They’ve begun lowering the morphine dosage, and my head is feeling clearer. I know he’s hiding something.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jasper mumbles. “Just…”

“Just nothing,” I snap. “You know something about me, and you’d better tell me now!”

“People know,” Jasper says flatly. “It’s been on the news. You know who Royce’s dad is…there was no way he was going to be arrested and charged with all the shit they threw at him and it not get out. I’m sorry Rosalie, but what happened to you isn’t any kind of secret.”

I gape at him, the shock leaving me winded. People _know?_ My experience, of being stripped and beaten and naked and completely vulnerable…people _know_ about it? I shake my head, ignoring the pain. “But…everyone at school…”

Jasper rubs a hand wearily across his face. “Look, don’t think about it now. It doesn’t matter what people know, or are saying…nothing is your fault, whatever bullshit Royce is spewing.”

I know there’s more to this, but I know that Jasper has said all that he’s going to. My heart thudding I reach for my phone and switch it back on, hearing the beeps of messages and emails flooding in.

“You don’t have to do this.” Jasper’s face is like stone. “I mean it Rose…what they’re saying doesn’t mean shit, but that doesn’t mean you want to have to think about it now.”

Missed calls from Royce, Kacey, Vera, Peyton…I scroll through them all. The last one from Royce is from yesterday morning, I think probably before his arrest. The text messages…I read them with hands that can’t stop shaking, my trembling fingers following the links in the emails I’ve been sent, scrolling through the photos that the police showed me that are now here, out on the web for anyone to look at…

“Did you see all this?” I ask Jasper, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” His voice shakes and his face is grief stricken. “I don’t know who did it, but I had anonymous people emailing me that shit. I forwarded it all to the police and they’re looking into it, but…”

I look again, feeling the rage build. That someone has taken this from me and laid it out for the amusement or titillation or gossip of others...that my vulnerable moment is now public property…

“Fuck them!” I scream, and it feels good. Feels good to let the anger raise me up and have it flow through me, lending me the strength that seems to have deserted me. “They can just go to hell and leave me the fuck alone!”

And without hesitation I throw my phone at the wall as hard as I can, smiling through my tears when it smashes beyond repair. “Fuck that Jasper…I hate them, I hate them, I hate them for what they did to me…oh god, Jas, my _baby_ …I hate them…I wish I could kill them all!” Then I’m half sobbing and half screaming and cursing up a storm through the tears, and my body is enveloped by such a boundless web of pain that I don’t even know where in the world I am.

The two nurses on duty come in and stare, and Jasper cries and laughs at the same time, and for a moment hugs me tight enough to hurt, not worrying about my wounds. Our foreheads press together, blue eyes inches apart, and I see the crinkly smile lines at the corners of his as his hoarse voice says triumphantly, “And _there’s_ the Rosalie I know.”

It’s the absolute epitome of ugly crying, my face already hideously distorted from the bruises and swelling even without the addition of gut wrenching grief. But even as the effort exhausts me and I huddle against my pillows and sob, I know that I would rather feel _this_ than feel nothing. Because for all Royce hurt me he didn’t manage to kill me, and so I’m still here and I will not let him win. 

* * *

 

I stay in hospital for six more days. Six days of pain, of the humiliation of needing assistance to do the simplest things, of the vulnerability and indignity of personal and invasive medical exams and procedures. Six more days in which the police and lawyers from the DA’s office make me talk about what has happened again and again and again. Six more days, in which I only begin to understand how very broken I am now.

Jasper stays with me most of the time. He goes home each day to shower and change, and he comes back with clean clothes for me and food that I might be able to eat and the steadiness of his presence that has come to mean safety to me. At first when he goes I find myself crying, just because I’m alone, but tears get me nowhere and soon I don’t cry at all.

I sleep as much as possible. The nurses tell me that sleep is good, and that while my body is resting it’s healing, but really I sleep because it means escape. Sleep gives me oblivion, a place where there is no pain and no grief and no fear, and I would stay there as long as I could.

When I’m awake Jasper and I watch movies and tv shows on dvd. Mostly comedies, or musicals or science fiction, or animated children’s movies we remember from childhood. Nothing with violence, nothing with sex, nothing with blood. Nothing that might remind me of that night. My phone is smashed beyond repair, and I don’t watch the news or connect my laptop to the hospital wi-fi to check the internet because I don’t want any outside reality encroaching on the fragile peace I’m trying to cling to.

But reality can’t be denied forever, no matter how unwelcome. The day before I’m meant to go home the police return, bringing with them a representative of the DA’s office.

I’ve just come back to my room from orthopaedics, where the doctors have finally decided the swelling in my hand has gone down enough to be certain that I don’t need surgery, and they’ve removed the brace and padding and replaced it with a pink fibreglass cast. It’s lighter than the brace they had me in was, and I swing my cast at Jasper, enjoying the mobility.

“I’m still not going to be able to do anything though,” I say ruefully. “It’s right down to my fingertips.”

Jasper examines the tips of my fingers, with their broken nails, that peek out the end of the cast. “What’s the problem, when you’ve got me to be your slave?”

I laugh, but before I can say anything there’s a knock at the door and Detectives Evans and Cortez come in, with a man with a briefcase I don’t recognise. My laugh fades away, and I cross my arms defensively over my chest.

“Hi Rosalie,” Detective Cortez greets me. “You’re looking better today.”

I make a non-committal noise. _Better_ is very much a relative term- some of the swelling in my face is going down now, but the bruising is still all colours of the rainbow.

“We’ve got some good news,” Detective Evans says. I look at him suspiciously and he shrugs his shoulders a little. “Well, we think it’s good news.”

“Hi Rosalie, I’m James Creed and I’ve been working on your case with the DA.”

The unfamiliar man leans across and offers his hand, and reluctantly I shake it. “This is my brother, Jasper,” I mutter.

James Creed shakes Jasper’s hand too, and then smiles. “We just wanted to come and talk to you- we think we’ve reached a resolution with your case.”

I freeze. Last I heard Royce was admitting to nothing and was also painting me as a whore who’d do anything, or anyone. He was slinging mud and lying, but had a lawyer experienced and knowledgeable enough to get a lot of it to stick, and the fight ahead of me to get justice looked grim.

“We know what happened to you was horrific,” Detective Cortez says. “It was very important to not only get justice for what happened to you, but also to prevent him doing something like that to anyone else.”

“Rape is notoriously difficult to prosecute,” James says. “I believe the detectives have talked about that with you. As well as being difficult to prove from a legal standpoint, a rape trial can also be traumatic for the victim. But we’re going to be able to avoid that for you Rosalie, because the defendants have agreed to a plea bargain.”

“What do you mean?” Jasper asks sharply.

James looks at him. “They plead guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence. They’ll still serve jail time, but less than what they would have been given had they been found guilty at trial.”

“Less time,” Jasper repeats sceptically. “And that’s a good idea because…?”

“Because it’s more time than they’ll get if they go to trial and manage to get off or be only found guilty of the lesser charges,” James said bluntly. “And don’t get me wrong…the system stinks sometimes and that might happen. At least this way they are convicted and put away, and Rosalie doesn’t have to go through a trial.”

There’s a long silence, before Detective Evans says quietly, “It’s a good outcome. They admit guilt, and will go to prison and have a record for life. They’ll be listed on the sex offender registry and that will always follow them.”

“It means you won’t have to go through a trial,” Detective Cortez says to me gently. “You won’t have to have the prospect of court hanging over you for months, and then have to relive everything again for a judge and jury. You can close the book on this part of your life now and move on.”

I see the look in her eyes. She’s not a fool, and I know she’s seen more girls like me than I can imagine. She knows that there’s no moving on, not really. I will carry the scars of what was done to me on my skin and in my heart for the rest of my life.

Jasper looks like he’s struggling to hold back his emotion, but I just shrug apathetically. What does it matter to me, really, what happens to Royce? Nothing the courts can do to him will change what happened to me and no amount of punishment or prison time is ever going to return my baby to me. Maybe moving on from all this _is_ the best I can hope for.


	31. Back Home and Back Again

I’m so glad to go home. Everyone in the hospital has been kind and sensitive, but it’s a place I associate with nothing but pain and misery and all I want is to be at home, in the privacy and familiarity of my own home.

I’m not allowed to climb up and down the stairs at first, so Jasper brings down my quilt and I spend the first few days sleeping in the recliner chair in the living room and watching the big tv in there. Dad works as much as always, but Jasper’s nearly always there, reading or playing on his laptop in the living room with me, his mostly silent presence giving me a sense of security I desperately need.

I’m so scared all the time! Every time there’s a noise outside I jump, and the sound of a ringing phone can make me sweat. Jasper’s changed the security code on the alarm system, and as I make my slow and painful way to the bathroom or the kitchen I check it obsessively.

I wake up on my third morning home feeling sick and feverish. Jasper is asleep on the sofa as I make my way tiredly to the bathroom. I pee, glad that doing that doesn’t really hurt anymore, and then stand at the sink washing my hands. As I lean forward to rinse off the soap my arm touches the side of my breast and sends a bolt of pain through me so sharply that I yelp. _Oh god, what now?_

I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror anymore, seeing the bruises work their way through a myriad of shades from black and blue through purple and pink and then green and brown and yellow, but it’s hard to avoid. Today I look up and see a stain on my tshirt over my breast, and with shaking hands I lift the dirty shirt over my head and drop it on the floor.

It hurts to move my arms. Everything hurts, but the heat and spikes of pain seem to be centred on my breast, where the dressing over the bite mark is seeping a discoloured fluid through. Trembling I peel it off, shuddering at the shock of pain it causes.

_Oh shit, no…I can’t take anymore!_

There’s no doubt that the wound is infected. The skin around it is red and inflamed, the broken flesh an angry red and purple and oozing hideous yellow-green pus, and it reeks. I give out a sobbing moan and then collapse on the floor by the toilet, leaning heavily over the seat as I vomit again and again. Even when I’ve got nothing left in my stomach it heaves, until I finally slump, exhausted, down on to the floor, resting my hot cheek against the cool tile.

“Rosalie? Oh fuck, what’s happened?” Jasper opens the door and immediately crouches down beside me. “Rosie, come on…open your eyes and talk to me. What’s the matter?”

I’m so exhausted, and I feel so sick and hot and unhappy that for once I don’t care that I’m still half naked. I roll over onto my back so Jasper can see the wound and say dully, “It’s infected. I can’t…I can’t look at it…” Even the thought of it is enough to send me retching and gagging back to the toilet.

“It’s okay,” Jasper says. I can see a muscle in his jaw twitching, but he’s forcing himself to speak calmly. “I can help you, if you don’t mind….”

 _He’s going to have to touch me._ I close my eyes and nod, because I don’t have any other option. I can’t bear to look at my own body, I hate it for letting me down again, and I wonder bleakly how much longer I’m going to have to suffer.

“Okay, sit up and lean against the wall.”

I keep my eyes shut as Jasper helps me sit up, and then presses a cold wash cloth into my hands.

“Put that on your face,” he directs me. “You feel really hot and you look like you’re going to pass out at any moment. I’ll clean this up and put a fresh dressing on it, but we’re going to have to go back to the doctor, I’m sorry. This is going to need antibiotics at a minimum.”

Tears run silently down my face. Jasper’s hands are as gentle as he can be, but my body feels like it’s on fire and I dig my fingers fiercely into my thigh in an effort to hold back the whimpers. He disappears for a moment and then comes back with a clean dressing which he tapes on, and his NYU sweatshirt which he tugs over my head. I finally open my eyes to see his face close beside mine, his blue eyes shimmering with tears too.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I know that he wants to say so much more. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Jasper throws on his jeans and a tshirt, but I don’t even bother changing out of my pyjama pants before I follow him out to the car to go to the hospital. By this point I can’t bring myself to care about anything, and people seeing me in Jasper’s oversized NYU sweatshirt and my sheep printed pyjama pants isn’t even a blip on my radar.

By the time we get to the hospital my fever is over 102, and I’m seen relatively quickly. It’s an unfamiliar doctor who comes into the curtained cubicle where I’m slumped on the bed and Jasper’s sitting in a chair with his head in his hands, and when he first catches sight of me I see his professionalism falter as he takes in all the bruising that’s still decorating my face and neck.

“They said a fever?” he says a little uncertainly, flipping through the notes he’s been given, no doubt reading my history. “Oh, I see…”

He’s young, and I suspect he’s a medical student, judging by how awkward he looks as he approaches me. “Hi Rosalie, I’m Dr Cavill.”

“Hi,” I mutter. Can we just get this over with?

“What’s the problem? It says here you’ve got a fever of 102.5 and you’ve got an infected wound? Can you show me?”

The look on his face and the flush of red that stains his cheeks as I yank up the sweatshirt and expose my breasts to him would be funny if I was even the least bit inclined to laugh. As it is I stare stone faced off to the side as he snaps on a pair of gloves and peels off the dressing.

“This doesn’t look good,” he says to me. “No wonder you feel so crummy, it’s a bad infection.” He’s more confident now that he’s doing something, and his hand on my breast feels professionally impersonal. At least until he presses down and I scream with the sudden shocking pain.

“Sorry!” Dr Cavill immediately pulls his hands away. “I think you’ve got an abscess in there. They treated you with broad spectrum antibiotics when you were first brought in, but you need some more. Maybe a more specialised kind. What I want to do is clean the wound and drain the abscess, and give you some IV antibiotics while you’re here to get a jump start on treating it. We’ll take a sample of the infected tissue too, so we can be sure we’re targeting it with the right meds. Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever.” I let the sweatshirt fall and lie back listlessly on the pillow. After all the things that have been done to my body in the last week and a half, what’s one more thing?

The treatment seems to take hours. Even getting the iv placed isn’t easy. One of my hands is covered in a fibreglass cast and the veins in the back of the other one are shot after all the times I was jabbed during my inpatient days. It takes the nurse several tries to get one situated in my arm and by the time she’s done I’m nearly in tears. Jasper goes to the canteen and buys me jellybeans, feeding them to me one at a time because between the cast on one arm and the splint and iv in the other I can’t even feed myself.

The doctor comes back with the nurse, and asks me to remove my sweater to make it easier for him. The nurse helps lift it over my head, where it hangs all bunched up over the arm that’s tethered to the iv. I smell the sickening smell of the infection, and see the doctor’s hand cupping my infected breast as he injects it with local anaesthetic and I vomit, spattering him with a luridly coloured mess of bile and jellybeans. That holds up proceedings as he goes to find a clean scrub top and the nurse cleans me.

It feels like the end of the road, for me. The humiliation and indignity and helplessness have all taken their toll, and I can’t take anymore. I bury my face in the sweatshirt bunched up on my arm and don’t say another word, letting the tears silently soak into the fabric that smells like clean laundry as more strangers come and poke and prod at me. Once again I feel hatred burning through me at the thought of all that Royce has done to me.

_How is it that a year ago I was flirting with him at pool parties and hoping he’d ask me out, and now I’m like this? What happened? I never used to take shit from anyone, but I let him treat me like crap and I just took it all. I wanted him in my life, I invited him in and I gave him so much of me, and now he’s ruined everything…how do I make a future after all this?_

“It’s okay sweetie,” the nurse pats my bare shoulder. “Have a drink of water, and see if that helps.”

I wearily lift my head and sip at the water she holds up to my mouth. It feels cool and refreshing, and I’m grateful even as I can’t speak for fear of bursting out into hysterical baby sobs. She’s an older woman and I guess I must look pathetic and childish enough, sitting here with tears on my face and my hair half falling out of the ponytail and my sheep pyjamas and Keds, to rouse her maternal instincts.

“Don’t worry about being sick,” she says cheerfully. “You’re not the first to do it and we all keep a spare set of clothes just for that. I’m just glad it was him and not me today! The things I’ve had spilled on me over time just doesn’t bear thinking about, I’ll tell you that.” She smiles at me and holds out a small plastic cup with some pills in it. “Take these, honey. They’ll help bring down the fever and keep the nausea away.”

Obediently I do as I’m told, swallowing the pills and some more water, and then resting my face back against the sweatshirt. I don’t want to watch as I’m injected with more anaesthetic and then the doctor begins probing at the infected site. I’m glad I can’t feel any pain as I feel the pressure of his hands, and see the pile of gauze smeared with blood and pus that he’s cleaning out of me pile up on the table.

“This is a nasty abscess,” the doctor comments, still working intently. “You didn’t notice it hurting, or getting more tender over the past couple of days?”

“Everything hurts all the time,” I mumble wearily. “Why would I notice one particular area of pain?”

He can’t answer that. Instead he keeps on digging and squeezing and mopping up the mess, until he eventually announces he’s done and carefully covers it with a dressing.

Relieved I try and pull the sweatshirt back on. Jasper helps me, squeezing my shoulder when he sees the damp patch my tears have made.

“You’ll need to change the dressing each day, and check it carefully,” the doctor tells me. “I’ve cleaned it out, and hopefully the antibiotics will take care of it, but you need to keep an eye on it. If it hurts more, or the surrounding skin gets redder or more inflamed, if the fever doesn’t settle within the next day…come back. Okay?”

I nod, mute and miserable, and Jasper once again touches my shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” he mutters. “Don’t worry about it.”

I wonder what I’d do without him as the two of us play Scrabble on his phone while we wait for the antibiotics to finish their slow drip into my arm. I’m relieved when it’s done and the nurse comes in and pulls out the iv and gives us a bag with more antibiotic tablets and enough dressing and tape for several days. As I shuffle through the parking lot outside, I wish fervently that I won’t ever have to come back here.


	32. Hitting Bottom

On the way home, Jasper pulls up to the smoothie bar. “I’m hungry,” he tells me, “And you really need to try and eat more Rose. A smoothie won’t hurt your mouth and you can get it full of bananas and milk and it’ll do you good.”

I try to smile at him. He’s starting to sound like a little old woman when he fusses about taking care of me, but I can’t resent him. How I would have managed without Jasper doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Okay,” I say with a shrug, pulling the elastic band out of my hair and shaking it out. It’s not as clean as I usually keep it, but showering is still so painful and awkward that it’s not something I can stand to do every day. Shaken out, my hair doesn’t look too bad, and I can’t do anything about the pyjama pants and the sweatshirt, so I walk slowly beside Jasper and into the store.

It’s a mistake to go in. I know it right away, as soon as the bell above the door chimes and people turn to look at us. There’s a sudden impression of silence, because the big corner booth down the back is full of people I know, friends of Royce’s and mine, and they all stop what they’re doing and stare. No one says a word.

Jasper goes up to the counter and I follow him. Conscious of all the eyes on me I force myself upright, despite the pain in my ribs, and smooth my face out into a look of unconcern. I’m excruciatingly aware of the bruises that still bloom over my skin in various stages of healing and the neon cast on my arm. I know they can’t see it, but all I can think about is the festering sore on my breast and the stitches I’ve had between my legs.

Jasper orders and then turns away, flipping through a newspaper left on the bench. I don’t know if he even notices the other people in the store, let alone the way they’re reacting to me. I rest my arm lightly on the counter and hold the broken one up close against my chest, as if to protect myself, and try and keep my breathing regular. I see the curious glances the two girls behind the counter give me and then each other. I feel a brief flare of anger at them, but I can’t sustain it. I know I look like a freak now- I would stare too, if I saw me on the street the way I look now.

I hear the laughter first. Low and mocking, I know it’s directed at me, but I don’t move, even as fear crawls up my spine and chills me.

_They can’t hurt you. No one can hurt you, not here. Not now. It’s over._

 “How ya doing, Rosalie?” It’s Nate, and when I turn slowly and look at him there’s no friendliness in his face. His eyes are as hard and cold as if we’d never shared a friendly word. “Haven’t seen you around lately…something you’ve been hiding?”

Not everyone in the group is with him, in the antagonism he clearly feels for me. Some of the boys look uncomfortable, and I see Evan punch Nate on the shoulder and shake his head at him. But no one tells him to stop. No one says anything kind. And when I turn my back on them without answering Nate, the low, jeering laughter is from more than one of them.

My heart is pounding. All I want to do is run, but Jasper is talking with the girl behind the counter as she finishes pouring the smoothies, and then he hands me mine with a smile that quickly turns to concern.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I just want to get out of here,” I mutter. I don’t look behind me, but as I walk as fast as I can out of the smoothie bar I hear the laughter again, and the single word thrown my way with a casual cruelty that takes my breath away.

_“Whore.”_

Jasper hears it too, and he stops dead. Before I can do anything he half turns to face them, but the last thing I think I can bear is more violence, and I physically get between him and the booth of boys who are now watching us with open interest.

“ _Don’t,”_ I hiss. “For god’s sake Jasper, if you love me at all you will just turn right around and _get me out of here.”_

I can hear Jasper grinding his jaw in rage and frustration. His eyes are blazing as they look past my shoulder to the boys in the booth who are all sitting in silence, waiting for his reaction, but then he slowly turns back to the parking lot and strides over to the Camaro.

Neither of us say a word as we drive home. The air in the car is thick with tension, and I don’t even try and sip my smoothie. The silence lasts until we’re parked in the garage at home, when Jasper slams his fists on the wheel and glares at me. “You should have let me smash their fucking faces in.”

“Why?” I say, and the single word sounds more heartbroken and vulnerable than I mean it to. “What would that achieve?”

“It might teach them not to open their mouths about something they know nothing about!” Jasper is nearly spitting, he’s so angry. “It might make _me_ feel a bit fucking better! Goddamn it Rosalie, do you know what it’s like to watch them kick you while you’re down? Do you know what it’s like to watch you go through what you’re going through and not be able to do a fucking thing to help or make it better?”

I reach over and touch his shoulder with my good hand. He’s rigid with tension. “It sucks,” I say quietly. “Everything about this sucks, Jasper, but beating them up….or getting beaten up by them, because there were a lot more of them than of you…it wouldn’t have helped. There isn’t anything that helps now.”

“Yeah,” Jasper says bitterly. “I guess not.”

We go inside silently, and drink our smoothies that don’t taste so good after that. I take more medication and sleep, but this time something happens and the fragments of dreams I’ve been having coalesce into a single, vividly horrifying nightmare and I wake up screaming.

I don’t know where I am, and I’m in the grip of a terror so fierce that all I can do is follow my instinct to run. But there are arms around me, and so great is my terror of being captured and restrained again that I hit out blindly, screaming wildly, until the arms fall away. I’m off the sofa and over by the door before I open my eyes to really see what is happening.

It’s Jasper, with his hands up to his face and blood trickling between his fingers, his eyes watering. The sight of the blood does nothing to settle me, and I slowly slide down the wall to sit on the floor, my breath coming in shallow, wheezing pants now as I try to get control. I’ve moved too fast getting off the sofa and now the pain catches up with me, squeezing my ribs and making my hand throb under the cast.

“It’s okay, Rosie, it’s okay….” Jasper looks like he doesn’t know what to do, tend to his bleeding lip or come and comfort me. In the end he dashes to the kitchen and comes back with a dishtowel clamped over the lower half of his face, crouching down beside me. “What happened?”

I can barely talk. “I…had a nightmare…I thought….”

Jasper shakes his head, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “You were screaming….I wanted to wake you up. Your eyes opened, so I thought you were awake, and I tried to give you a hug. I just wanted to help! But you belted me in the face with your cast.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” My heart beat is slowing and my breathing is coming a little easier. I look down at the cast and see the drops of Jasper’s blood staining the pink material. “I didn’t mean it…it was just a bad dream. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Jasper says quietly. He peels the towel away from his face and grimaces at the blood. “You’ve split my lip…it was a good hit! That thing is like a rock.”

“Try living with it wrapped around your arm,” I say with a shaky laugh.

Jasper sits down beside me, both of us leaning against the wall and staring into the quiet living room, thinking our own thoughts. After a time I lean over and rest my head carefully against Jasper’s shoulder.

“What’s going to happen to us?”

Jasper can’t answer. Instead he takes my hand and holds it tight, and light as a breath he whispers, “I don’t know.”

I wish there was an answer. I wish there was something to cling to, but there isn’t. There’s nothing but hurt in a world that isn’t safe anymore, and so Jasper and I are quiet, moving around each other but saying little, both of us fretting about a future that suddenly seems so uncertain. 

* * *

 

I’m finally allowed to climb the stairs. It takes effort, but at least now I can go to my own room and have my own things and not always need to ask Jasper to fetch everything. I am so tired of my dependence on others.

Even when I decide to have a shower I have to ask Jasper to help wrap the cast in plastic, which he does without a murmur. After that I awkwardly manage to undress in the bathroom and turn the shower on and get in. The hot water feels warm on my healing muscles and I stay in for a long time, doing my best to wash every trace of the hospital off my body and out of my hair, shampooing and conditioning it as well as I can manage with one hand.

But then I get out of the shower and see my reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the door, and it’s like the world stops.

_That’s me. That’s what I am now._

I haven’t seen myself like this since it happened. There were no full length mirrors in the hospital, and I’ve been using the downstairs bathroom which doesn’t have one either, so I’ve never been confronted with the full visual reality of how much they’ve hurt me. So now I hold still and stare, even as my wet hair drips down my back, taking in the way I look now.

I’ve always been beautiful. I know it’s vain to say so, but since my mom started taking me to modelling jobs as a baby I’ve always been aware of the way I look. And I liked it. I liked my big blue eyes and thick blond hair and classical features. I liked being pretty, I liked being able to get attention when I wanted it because of the way I look, I liked the way boys had always asked me out and the girls had always been jealous. I liked being able to look in the mirror and feel satisfied with what I saw.

But now…all I see are the flaws. All I see are the marks _he_ left on me. The weeping abscess on my breast, the livid surgical scars on my belly, the bruises and broken bones and lacerations. All I see now mocks me for my vanity, for ever believing that I was beautiful and that it was what mattered about me, because now I know I’m never going to be able to look in the mirror without seeing this. Without seeing myself as his victim.

I’m not even aware of what I’m doing as I pick up the metal make up case on the counter and hurl it at the mirror. I don’t realise at first that I’m screaming as the mirror shatters and my image dissolves into a thousand shards of glitter, but I am. I’m screaming because it’s ugly and because it hurts, and because I feel as though I’ve had everything that mattered to me taken from me.

I scream again, and then the door flies open, the lock snapping out of the frame, and Jasper is there. He looks from me to the mirror and I see his face tighten as he takes in the wreckage, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he steps over the glass and wraps me gently in a towel before he picks me up and carries me out of the bathroom. It feels like my ribs are being broken all over again, but I don’t say anything as he puts me down on the sofa in the playroom and drapes a throw rug over the top of me.

“What happened?” he asks eventually.

“I can’t stand it.” I stare at him with haunted eyes. “How do I do this Jasper? How do I move on when all I can see is what he did to me and all I can feel is how much I hate it? When I look in the mirror and I don’t see me? Because I don’t anymore…I see what he saw and I hate that it’s me.”

“It’s not you,” Jasper says, and his voice cracks. “God Rosie, what he saw in you, what he did to you…that hasn’t got anything to do with who you really are. And all those scars just mean that you were true to yourself, even when he didn’t like it and tried to make you otherwise.”

His words are kind, but lost in my own bleak thoughts I don’t see them as truth. “I hate myself…and I don’t ever want to look at myself again,” I whisper. “And that’s why I smashed the mirror.”

I bow my head and put my face in my hands, and feel a wave of complete and utter exhausted despair wash over me. I’m done. Whatever happens from now on, this _has_ to be my rock bottom and it cannot keep getting worse.

 


	33. Lost in the Darkness

It’s not that simple.

I don’t leave the house again for weeks. My body heals, slowly and steadily, but my spirit is plunged into a depression so deep I don’t know that I’m ever going to see the sun again. I don’t like to be reminded of what used to be so I avoid my bedroom, spending my days on the sofa in the playroom or sprawled out on Jasper’s bed with him, watching endless movies and binge watching every episode of every tv series I’ve ever been remotely interested. I barely shower, and despite Jasper buying me treats and hauling out the dusty Vitamix to make me smoothies, I can’t bring myself to eat very much either. I sleep more than I’ve ever slept in my life, and yet the exhaustion never lifts.

I don’t talk to any of my friends. My phone is still broken and I don’t replace it. I go on the internet and see what has been said about me and Royce and everything that has happened and in a sickened rage I delete all my social media accounts and close down the computer. I don’t do anything that means I have to interact with the outside world.

Jasper and my dad are the only people I see and speak to. I sleep beside Jasper in his bed because I’m too afraid to be alone in the dark, and when I wake up he’s looking at me with tears in his eyes and I add guilt over what I’m doing to Jasper to the pile of emotions that’s suffocating me.

At first they allow me my silence and misery, but as the weeks of summer bleed into months and the school year approaches, things change. I don’t want them to, and although Jasper, and even Dad, make increasing efforts to draw me out and elicit some more responsiveness from me, I wilfully resist.

I’m on the sofa watching ancient episodes of the original Degrassi Junior High one day when Jasper comes upstairs. He says hi and then disappears into the bathroom, coming out with the clothes hamper.

“I’m doing the laundry,” he tells me briskly. “I’ll do yours too, if you get up and have a shower and give me those clothes.”

“I’m good.” I don’t look at him.

“No, you’re not.” I can tell he’s frowning. “You’ve been wearing those clothes for five days or something. They’re revolting.”

Actually, it’s been seven days but I don’t tell him that. I look down at the NYU sweatshirt and the pink and grey striped pyjama pants and shrug. Seven days without a shower and even I can tell that I’m pretty rank and the clothes are gross, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Rosalie, come on,” Jasper says desperately. “You have to take care of yourself. Let me help you cover the cast so you can shower and get changed. You’ll feel better if you’re clean and have washed your hair.”

“I’ll do it later,” I mutter. “I’m watching tv.”

Jasper stands at the end of the sofa and grabs the leg of my pyjama pants, pulling at them. “Do it _now_ ,” he insists. “Come on Rose…”

“No!” I yank my leg away and then kick him in the ribs. “Fuck off!”

Jasper’s face is like thunder, but he doesn’t say a word as he throws the dirty clothes over the stair rail and stalks downstairs after them. I feel guilty about being a bitch, and when he comes upstairs a couple of hours later with some peanut butter cookies and a banana smoothie for me I feel even worse.

“You can sit on the sofa,” I mumble, taking the snack and sitting up. “Thank you…I’m sorry about before.”

Jasper drags his desk chair out of his room and sits on it backwards, staring at the tv with a sigh. “It’s okay. And, with all due respect Rosalie, you stink. It’s summer and you haven’t changed your clothes or showered for god knows how long, so if it’s all the same to you I’ll just sit over here.”

Furious tears come to my eyes. “Fine, asshole! I’ll go and have a shower then!” I snarl as I storm off to the bathroom. It’s awkward wrapping the cast in plastic and washing my hair with one hand, but I have to admit that Jasper was right. I do smell revolting, and as I dry myself off after the shower I think that it does feel better to smell nice and not have my oily, grungy hair matting up on my head.

Jasper’s moved his desk chair and is sitting on one end of the sofa, still watching Degrassi when I’m finally clean, dry and dressed. I’m still struggling to comb my hair as I sit beside him, and a few moment later he says quietly, “Do you want me to have a try?”

I nod, and give him the comb. I hate my dependence on him for so many of these little tasks, but trying to unpick days’ worth of matted snarls in my hair with only one hand is excruciating. Jasper is so awkward as he inexpertly picks through the tangles and smooths it out, and my heart hurts with how much I love him and how hard he tries for me.

“I’m sorry,” he says tiredly, his hands still busy in my hair. “I didn’t mean to be so rude…I was out of line.”

I shrug. “You were right. I was rank.”

Jasper chuckles slightly. “Yeah, but…I don’t know. I don’t want to push you until you’re ready, but you’re kind of scaring me Rosalie.”

“Please don’t worry about me,” I say softly. The comb is moving smoothly through my hair, so I take it from Jasper’s hand and drop it on the floor before I lay my head back down on my pillow and curl my feet up onto the couch.

Jasper shifts over to give me more room. “I can’t help worrying,” he says quietly. “You’re not really doing that well.”

I comb my fingers through the damp strings of my hair, tugging lightly, not answering. What can I say? Even I wouldn’t claim that I’m doing well.

Jasper is watching me carefully, alert for any reaction. “You’re healing. You say it doesn’t hurt anymore. But all you ever do is lie here and watch tv. You don’t read, or call any of your friends, or go outside. You don’t even do the most basic things to look after yourself – like eating and showering. You sleep eighteen hours a day but you’re always exhausted and those dreams…”

“Don’t,” I cut in. I can’t talk about the dreams. “I know Jasper, I know what I’m like now. But I…” I shrug helplessly.

_This is all I can do right now. All this grief and rage and hatred inside me…it doesn’t leave room for anything else. I feel like I’m lost Jasper, and I don’t know how to find a way out of this darkness. I don’t even know if I care enough to look for one._

Jasper doesn’t say anything else, but as he stares at the tv he gently rubs one hand along my calf. “I love you,” he says quietly, still without looking at me. “I wish I could help you.”

_I wish you could too._

But he can’t. No one can help me. I wrap my fingers in my damp hair and stare at the tv with eyes blurred with tears, and wish once again that I’d died that night.

I wake up hours later, hearing the slam of the front door and the beep of the alarm being reset. Dad must be home. Jasper is no longer on the end of the sofa, and as I hear him downstairs I get to my feet, thinking I might go down and see if he wants to order in some food. I’m not hungry, but I know if I suggest food and eat something, he’ll leave me alone about eating for a little while.

I’m halfway down the stairs, moving silently in my bare feet, when I hear my name. I stop and sit down, hugging my knees and listening.

“….talked to her a bit. I made her have a shower- she’s not doing well.” It’s Jasper, his voice high with emotion.

“But she’s healing so well,” Dad says. “The bruising is all but gone and all the stitches are out and she’s not taking the painkillers…is she?”

“I don’t mean her physical healing! For God’s sake Dad, we’ve got to do something!” Jasper shouts. “It’s been weeks and weeks and all she does is sleep and watch tv!”

“She’s still healing,” Dad says unconvincingly. “I’m sure she’ll come round. She just needs more time.”

“She needs a shrink!” Jasper snaps. “She doesn’t do _anything_ the way she used to. She doesn’t shower and she never changes her clothes. And this is _Rosalie_ we’re talking about…she used to spend half her life looking at herself in the mirror! Today I had to practically pick fucking dreadlocks out of her hair because it’s been so long since she brushed it!”

“Is it really that bad?” Dad sounds bewildered. “I didn’t realise…what do you want me to do?”

“Anything!” Even from my position on the stairs I can tell Jasper is grinding his teeth. “Get her in to therapy. Find someone who can make her talk and help her!” He mumbles something I can’t hear, and then says wearily, “This is serious dad. This isn’t just that she’s a bit sad, or a bit depressed…she’s completely withdrawn from everything, and it can’t go on like this.”

“I’ll call Carlisle,” Dad says at last. “He’ll know about this kind of thing and he’ll be able to tell me how to find someone.”

* * *

 

Two days later, Jasper bullies me into another shower. Not that it’s hard; I’m too apathetic to put up a fight about anything so when he appears with plastic bags and rubber bands and begins wrapping up my cast I just let him do it and then shuffle into the shower.

When I come out, Jasper is sitting in the window seat and Dad is sitting on the sofa. The sight of him upstairs, at home in the middle of the day, stuns me.

“What’s going on?” I say suspiciously, clutching my towel tightly around me.

“Go and get dressed,” Dad says with fake cheerfulness. “And put on some real clothes.”

Without a word I go into my room and pull on a t-shirt and pyjama pants before I go back to the playroom and sit on the sofa, pressing myself back into the corner with my knees up and my arms around my shins.

Dad scowls at my pyjama pants. “I told you to put on some real clothes.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jasper says hastily. “She’s clean…they won’t care about pyjamas.”

I flick my eyes his way and then look back at Dad before Jasper can see how hurt I am. What’s he doing, taking dad’s side against me? Why is he pushing like this? Can’t he see that I just want to be left alone?

“Okay then Rose, put on some shoes. You’ve got an appointment,” Dad says.

I start shaking my head before he even finishes talking. “No.”

“Yes. I’ve found a psychiatrist who’s willing to take you on. They can help you get back on your feet.”

I scrunch further down into the sofa. I want to disappear. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? Come on Rosalie, this isn’t a suggestion. You’ve got an appointment and I’ve taken off work to make sure you get there. So let’s go.”

I shake my head dumbly. The very idea of being taken outside, of going to a strange place and being expected to expose all my secrets to a strange person is abhorrent.

“Rosie.” Jasper goes down on his knees in front of me, holding out his hand. “Come on. You must see that you need something…please. You need to talk about what happened. I’ll go with you.”

I close my eyes and turn my head away. Talking, having to go through the whole story again…it’s like all my words have fled. I can’t possibly explain to Jasper the terror I feel at dragging it all back into the light.

“Come on Rosalie, get up!” Dad sounds frustrated. “You’ve spent more than enough time up here, and now it’s time to try something else.”

I don’t look at either of them as I wrap my hands in my hair and bury my face in my knees. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The next thing I know, Dad has taken hold of my good hand and is tugging at it. “Come on. You have to.”

“No!” My voice rises to a shriek and I nearly somersault over the edge of the sofa to get away from him. “Don’t touch me! Don’t!”

The silence is like a thunderclap, and then with a muffled curse Dad storms downstairs. Jasper’s face twists as he struggles to get his emotions under control. I’m shivering as I back away from him, my heart pounding and my breath coming in short, terrified gasps.

“Rosalie,” he pleads.

I shake my head. “No. Leave me alone.” As he moves towards me I back away, holding my hands out to keep him away. “Leave me alone!” And I back into my bedroom and slam the door, huddling on the floor behind it as I weep.


	34. A Stirring of Hope

 A week and a half later, Jasper comes upstairs one afternoon, whistling. This time I’m lying on his bed reading comic books, and he sits down hard enough on the bed to make me bounce.

“Hey,” he says cheerfully, handing me an envelope. “Stuff from school- class assignments and book lists. I’m in homeroom 12C…check yours.”

I place the envelope on his nightstand and go back to The Avengers without a word. I’m lying on my belly with my hair falling forward to shield my face, but even with my vision obscured I know Jasper is watching me.

“Rosalie?” he says carefully. “Aren’t you going to look at your letter? We have to sign the conduct contract and send it back, and we’ll have to take our book lists to the store to get them filled. We can go together if you want, and I’ll go shopping with you. I know you always want new clothes for school.”

My heart beats faster. I’ve been thinking about school as the start date approaches, and I’m flatly determined that I’m never going to set foot in Rochester High ever again. I cannot face the thought of surrounding myself with people who know what happened to me, people who may have been involved in the terrible rumours and stories that have circulated the web about me, people who will look and know and judge. “I’m not going to school,” I say softly.

“But Rosalie…that’s crazy. You _have_ to go to school. What do you think you’re going to do if you don’t?” Jasper sounds baffled.

“I don’t care. I’ll stay here.” I close the comic book and hang off the bed, reaching under the bed for another one. “Read comics. Watch tv. Anything.”

“I’m not saying it will be easy,” Jasper says. “I know school’s going to be really hard. But you can do it, and…you need something normal Rose. You need to start living again…you can’t give up.”

I just shake my head, wrapping chunks of hair around my fingers and staring blindly at the comic book in front of me as I ignore Jasper’s worried eyes on me.

_I can’t give up? Jasper, I’ve already lost._

I don’t talk about it again. Dad moves from kind and concerned to angry and loud. He doesn’t know what to do with me, and I don’t know how to make him understand. Jasper is caught between us, wanting what Dad wants but hating to see me hurting. He tries repeatedly to talk to me, until I scream at him that I’d rather kill myself than go back to that school. He knows I mean it, and the tears run down his face as he looks at me and all either of us can say is that we’re sorry. All I want to do is sleep, and try not to think about the monsters haunting me.

At the end of his rope with me, dad offers to find me a place at a private school. But I don’t want to go anywhere without Jasper and the reality is that wherever I go in Rochester people are going to know. They’ll hear my name and remember news reports, or their parents will have worked in some capacity with Royce’s father, or they will know people from the high school who will be more than happy to share the details. I tell him no, and again the tension rises as we all wonder what on earth we’re meant to do now.

The thing is, I know I’m being ridiculous. I’ve spent close to eight weeks lying around and grieving the loss of my baby and my old life as my body heals. Apart from the cast that’s still on my arm, you can’t tell just by looking at me that anything happened to me. The bruises have faded and the scars that are left can be hidden by clothes. But while my body is nearly as healed as it’s going to get, my mind is still a mess. The nightmares haunt me, and I no longer see any clear way into the future. I would never do anything to myself, but there are many days when I wish Royce had hit me just that little bit harder and made me bleed just that bit more so that I wouldn’t be here.

* * *

I’m in the kitchen when Dad gets home, drinking a soda and staring blankly out the window. It looks hot outside, and for a moment I look down at my skin, white from spending so long inside, and feel surprise that almost a whole summer has come and gone and I haven’t gotten a tan.

“Hello sweetie,” Dad says, giving me a wave and helping himself to a cold beer from the fridge. “Have a good day?”

I don’t say anything. He doesn’t really expect any answer, and I don’t have anything to say. None of my days are good.

“Dad,” Jasper says, thumping down the stairs. “Dr Cullen called earlier and wants you to call back.”

“Fantastic.” Dad immediately disappears into his room.

“What do you want for dinner?” Jasper asks, flipping through the menus stuck on the fridge with magnets. “There’s a new Indian place opened up…do you want to try it?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“Good.” Jasper forces the menu into my hands. “I’ll have the vindaloo. I’m going to have a shower before dinner, so you can order it.”

“Jasper…” I whine, but he shakes his head at me.

“You can make a phone call,” he says. “Really…you used to spend half your life on the phone. Ring and order the meal.”

Oh, sometimes I hate him! My heart is pounding. It’s not the phone, it’s talking to strangers, waiting for someone to come to the door… I hate this crippling fear that I’m living with every day. But I’m too tired for any further conflict with Jasper, so I pick up the menu and phone in an order. At least this is a new restaurant and they don’t know us, so I don’t have to talk to people who might know about me and ask questions.

Dad’s still on the phone and Jasper’s still upstairs when the doorbell rings with the delivery. I can’t open it. I go into Dad’s room and tell him that the food’s here, and he pulls out his wallet and hands it to me. “There should be enough in there to pay.”

I shake my head. “No. You go.”

“Rosalie…” Dad begins, but for once he actually stops and looks at my face. “Okay, I’ll get the door,” he says to me, and I hear him talking into the phone as he heads downstairs. “Yeah, that was her…won’t answer the door…dinner, she can see the delivery guy….but no…”

I sit on the stairs, out of sight of the front door and wait for the delivery driver to be gone. Jasper comes padding down from above, and for a moment he sits beside me, leaning his shoulder against mine.

“It’s going to get better,” he tells me quietly. “We’ll fix it Rose, we will.”

“Yeah,” I say dully. “We’ll fix it.”

Downstairs, Jasper and I open the fragrant cartons of food and get out plates. Dad says goodbye to Dr Cullen, and brings the cutlery over to the table. He and Jasper immediately pile their plates, but I take only enough that they won’t bother me and start picking at the rice.

“I just talked to Carlisle,” Dad says, unnecessarily. “And it’s sorted.”

Jasper nods like he knows what’s going on, but I’m only half listening as I get up and fetch the milk, smelling it warily. It’s still fresh so I take it back to the table and pour myself a glass.

“This concerns you, Rosalie,” Dad says briskly. “You can’t spend the rest of your life in the house. I know you don’t want to go back to the high school and I can’t make you, but you’ve got to finish your education. You’re a clever girl with a bright future, and you can’t let that bastard take more from you than he already has.”

I choke on my milk. No one mentions Royce, not ever. Tears in my eyes I look over at dad. “I don’t want…” I start to say softly, but this time Dad doesn’t even let me finish.

“Well, there’s what you want and there’s what’s good for you,” he says bluntly. “And this isn’t good for you.”

I stab my fork resentfully into my rice.

“You need to start doing things,” Dad says, and I can tell he’s trying to sound encouraging. “You need to start eating properly again, you need to start showering and getting dressed properly, and you need to leave the house. You need to go to school. None of that’s happening here, so what I think we should do is send you somewhere else, where you can have a new start.”

Terror so strong I can barely breathe swamps me. Go away? Go somewhere by myself? “No!”

“Rosalie, be reasonable,” Dad says with a sigh. “Think about this, it could be a good opportunity…”

“No!” My eyes seek out Jasper’s, and I know he reads the flaring panic in my face. “I can’t….please don’t make me, I can’t…”

“I’ll go with you.” Jasper is holding his fork very tightly and I can see the strain in his knuckles. “You don’t have to go by yourself.”

I’m struggling to breathe evenly. “I don’t want to go away.”

“Why not?” Jasper says gently. “It’s not like you’re so happy here…maybe being somewhere where no one knows you or your history will make it easier to start again.”

_Somewhere no one knows me…where they don’t know about Royce, and about baby Lily. Somewhere where maybe they haven’t seen those pictures and won’t call me names and gossip and speculate. Somewhere that I get to just be Rosalie again…_

Jasper knows that I’m fighting back panic. “Just breathe,” he says to me. “Slowly…you know you’re okay here. Just relax and breathe…”

“Where would I have to go?” Not even pretending to eat now I put down my fork and wrap a hand in my hair, pulling on it anxiously. _Is there anywhere that I’m going to be able to escape this?_

“I’ve been talking to Carlisle a lot since you were hurt,” Dad says. “Since you’ve been….like this, I asked his advice as a doctor and as my friend. He and Esme have offered to have you and Jasper to live with them, and you can go to the local high school with their kids.”

Live with the Cullens? I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. I’ve known Dr Cullen and Mrs Cullen all my life and like them well enough. Dr Cullen roomed with Dad at college and they’ve been friends ever since. They usually stay with us once a year, although I remember that they came when my mother died too. My memories of that time are jumbled, but I do remember Esme’s motherly kindness. “Where do they live? Somewhere in Washington?”

Dad nods. “A little town called Forks. Carlisle and Esme have a big house with plenty of room for you both, and they’ll be able to take good care of you. They say the local school’s not bad, and it’s nice and small- only a little over three hundred students. Carlisle’s happy to take over your medical care and I know Esme runs a good household.” Dad looks suddenly sad. “She was really good friends with your mom, you know? She’ll love to have you there. Their oldest boy is a senior like you two, and the other two kids are a year or so younger. They’re good kids. I really think this is a good option for you Rose.”

I look over at Jasper, and he nods at me reassuringly. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“And you’ll come with me?” I say numbly. “Leave school and all your friends and activities here?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Jasper looks at with a tiny, broken smile. “If that’s what you need, I don’t mind.”

Dad and Jasper both look like they’re expecting a fight, but for once I don’t kick up a fuss. As much as I might want to keep hiding, I know that Dad is right. Royce has left me damaged and broken and afraid, but for all that I’m still alive. I can’t let him steal the rest of my life from me the way he stole the life from my baby Lily.

And of all the options they’ve pressed upon me, this one seems to offer me the escape from my old life that I crave. The Cullens live all the way across the country. No one there will have been the least bit interested in the story of a rape and assault that happened in New York. No one there will have ever heard of Royce King or Rosalie Hale or know what happened between us. Maybe going somewhere completely new and far away from all the memories here is the best thing I can do.

It’s not just about me, either. I look at Jasper’s strained, tired face and feel guilty all over again for what this is doing to him too. He needs to go to school, he needs to be able to focus on his senior year and getting into college like he’s always dreamed of. I feel so selfish for wanting him with me, for making him start over when he’s happy and comfortable with his friends and his extra-curricular activities right here, but I know I can’t go without him. At least a home with the Cullens offers him something good too.

“Okay,” I say flatly. “I’ll go.”

They both look surprised at my quiet compliance. Jasper still looks worried, but Dad gives me a relieved smile and dives back into the curry he’s eating with relish.

“I’m really glad you’ve seen sense on this Rosalie,” he says through a mouthful. “You’ve made the right decision I think. Carlisle and I will work out the details, but you’ll probably have to be ready to leave pretty soon. There’s not much time before school starts.”

I give up the pretence of eating, swallow the rest of my milk and head upstairs. I’m watching tv in Jasper’s room, propped up on pillows with his quilt over my legs when he comes in later and sprawls out beside me. For a little while we watch in companionable silence, but when the credits begin rolling Jasper turns to me.

“Are you sure about this, Rose?” he asks. “I think it’s a good idea, but you need to be serious about giving things a chance in Forks if it’s going to work.”

I play with my hair. “I don’t know what other choice I have, really.”

“No other good ones,” Jasper acknowledges. “Dad was all about boarding school until the Cullens suggested you go there. And I mean this in the nicest possible way Rose, but I don’t think you’re exactly cut out for the discipline of boarding school.” 

I laugh a little and bump his shoulder. “I don’t think you are either.” I hesitate. “So it was their idea? The Cullens? They really do want to do this?”

Jasper nods slowly. “Yeah, I think they do. I mean it’s a favour to dad, but it was Esme’s idea and she seems kind of excited to have us both. I talked to her a little bit, she wanted me to be sure that I knew that they were happy to have both of us so you didn’t have to be alone.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “Remember, they adopted all of their kids…maybe they’re just that kind of people.”

I nod thoughtfully, asking slowly, “What about their kids? What if they’re awful?”

 _I know they have two boys. What if they’re boys like…like HIM? What if it’s not safe?_ But I don’t say it.

“I _think_ it will be okay,” Jasper says reflectively. “Dr and Mrs Cullen are good people, so I really can’t imagine that they’ve raised their kids to be too grim. Who knows, maybe we’ll even like them?” He grins at me. “And even if we don’t…well, look at us Rose. We’ve been through hell and we’re still standing. Whatever the Cullens throw at us I think we’ll be okay.”

I don’t know if he really believes it, or if he’s just saying it, but for a moment I feel a faint stirring of hope deep inside. A new life, a chance to find myself again, to find out who I am now that the person I was has been so thoroughly broken she doesn’t exist anymore. And with that hope in my heart I smile tentatively at Jasper and slowly nod.

“You’re right. We’ll be okay…you want to help me pack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Well, we’ve come to the end of Hothouse Flowers, and a gold star for you if you’ve managed to get through the unrelenting misery of it! I know it was grim, but I hope it really showed the way Rosalie was gradually broken down to the traumatised girl she was at the start of Where the Wild Roses Grow. And if you’ve been depressed as hell by reading this, go and read that because she (eventually) gets herself back together there and it all ends as well as it can. And she gets Emmett!  
> I really, REALLY missed writing Emmett in this.  
> The other thing I wanted to say (without sounding too much like a public service announcement) is that Rosalie’s relationship with Royce is bad, but it’s something that happens all too often, even if not quite to that extent. If anyone reading this recognised elements of their own relationship, or that of a friend, in some of what Royce said and did to Rosalie, then please try and reach out to someone. There is help available, and no one ever deserves that kind of treatment.  
> Thank you once again for reading, not just this but all my other stories. (Although really, REALLY thank you for reading this one because it was so sad and depressing to write it was nice to connect with people over it!) I love writing them and I love talking about them with people, so always feel free to leave a review or a comment. I reply to everyone, and it really does help the writing process to know that people are enjoying it. I’m already working on doing something new, and I’m thinking about Carlisle and Esme and the beautiful, uplifting love story they share, so hopefully much more fun than this one turned out to be. So if that’s something you might like, check back soon or put me on author alert so you’ll know about it.


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